


Gangway! (Or Dead End's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

by Longitudinalwave



Category: Transformers Generation One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longitudinalwave/pseuds/Longitudinalwave
Summary: Wildrider (and his fellow Stunticons) get expelled from the Decepticon ranks. Much insanity ensues.Trigger warning for abuse.
Comments: 66
Kudos: 73





	1. A Crazy Pineapple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for checking out my story! 
> 
> The story is more-or-less set in the G1 cartoon continuity. 
> 
> Wildrider is the POV character. 
> 
> Trigger warning for abuse (from here on in this story, this will be the "Motormaster trigger warning").

“ _Stupid.”_ _  
_ _“Crazy.”_

_ “Don’t do that, moron!”  _

_ “You look so ridiculous.”  _

_ “If you’re not more careful, we’ll get you.”  _

_ “You know no one really likes you, right?”  _

_ “Who drinks Energon like that?”  _

_ “Crazy pineapples, that’s who.”  _

Wildrider frowned. Why were the voices being mean again? Did they have something against pineapples? 

_ “We’re mean because you’re stupid and ugly, just like Motormaster says.”  _

_ “Yeah, you’re useless.”  _

_ “Breakdown’s more useful than you.”  _

_ “Stand up straight! You’re so embarrassing!”  _

_ “Yeah. I don’t want to be seen with you!”  _

“But no one can see you, and I’m the only one who knows you’re here!” Wildrider protested. The other Decepticons said that the voices weren’t real, so why were the voices concerned about him embarrassing them? 

_ “You only think that because you’re stupid and crazy.”  _

_ “He’s right. You know that your thoughts are unreliable.”  _

Wildrider was starting to get a little worried. The voices were right that his reality was different from everyone else’s. Maybe he had imagined the other Decepticons telling him that the voices weren’t real. 

“ _ Worthless idiot.”  _

_ “Somebody ought to lock you up in a madhouse.”  _

_ “Or kill you.”  _

_ “I wouldn’t be upset if someone did, that’s for sure.”  _

It was too quiet! Wildrider needed to make it loud to scare off the voices! With this in mind, he turned on his radio and blared “I’m a Little Teapot” as loud as he could. He liked that song. Its music was made of moonbeams and soup. He also pulled out his scattershot gun and started firing it, which created friendly loud noises and big explosions. Then Motormaster yanked his gun out of his hands, whacked him over the head with it, and then punched him in the faceplates. That hurt. 

“What were you shooting your gun for, you crazy lunatic?” he demanded. 

“The voices were being mean and don’t like that I’m a pineapple, so I had to make noise so that they would go away,” Wildrider replied. In response, Motormaster whacked him over the head again, then punched him in the abdomen. That also hurt. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that the “voices'' ain't real? You’re just hearin’ things ‘cause you’re a stupid loony, and your crazy fool notions are makin’ me look bad in front of the other Decepticons! You’d better get a grip on reality quick, or I’m gonna beat it into ya!” Motormaster snarled. He shoved Wildrider away, causing him to stumble backwards and knock into Breakdown, who shrieked, backed away, and accidentally knocked Dead End off balance. Dead End fell into Drag Strip, causing him to faceplant into his energon cube. All the other Decepticons in the refueling center turned to look at them, and Breakdown shrieked and bolted from the room, leaving his energon cube behind him. Then the other Decepticons started pointing and laughing. 

“Great leadership, Motormouth!” Skywarp sneered. 

“Megatron’s elite warriors, my foot. You’re nothin’ but a bunch of clumsy newbuilts!” Thrust exclaimed. He was made of apples. 

“Hey, crazy, where’d you learn those sick dance moves?” Blitzwing asked. Wildrider was pretty sure that one had been directed at him, but the other Decepticons thought that his entire team was crazy, so he couldn’t be sure. 

“Megatron replaced Devastator with _ that _ ? He’s almost as crazy as they are!” Scrapper said, prompting a loud burst of laughter from the other Contructicons. They were made of acid and plums, which was why they were purple and green. 

“Hey, Drag Strip, that energon looks stunning on ya!” Rumble-or-Frenzy exclaimed. Then he and Frenzy-or-Rumble started snickering. Drag Strip hated being laughed at, so, in embarrassment, he fled the room. That just made the other Decepticons laugh even harder. 

“ _ Ugh, you’re so horrible.”  _

_ “Yeah, it’s your fault everyone’s laughing at your team.”  _

_ “You’re a failure.”  _

_ “If your team gets in trouble for this, it’s all your fault.”  _

“SHUT UP!” Wildrider yelled. The good news was, the voices stopped talking to him. The bad news was, his outburst caught the attention of the other Decepticons. 

“Who are you talkin’ to, crazy?” Blitzwing asked. 

“Probably to his imaginary friends,” Astrotrain replied. Both triple changers laughed, and, as they laughed, their bodies twisted and contorted, making them look weird and scary. 

“Is that it, crazy? You talkin’ to your imaginary friends?” 

“They’re not my friends!” All the voices did was insult and threaten him! That was why he had to keep them away with noises! And why wouldn’t the triple changers stop twisting and changing shape and color? The two laughed again, but their voices sounded far away, even though they were seated at the table nearest the Stunticons. Then, just as suddenly as the twisting and contortions began, they stopped, and the triple changers were back to normal. 

“Oh, so he’s talking to his imaginary  _ enemies! _ ” Astrotrain exclaimed. 

“Well, that blue, cowardly little zapmouse  _ is _ your brother. He’s got imaginary enemies, so I guess it ain’t that surprising that you have them too,” Blitzwing added. 

“But they’re not imaginary! They’re real!” Wildrider protested. Why would he imagine voices that didn’t like him because he was a pineapple? Suddenly, Motormaster punched him hard in the chest, and he cried out in pain. Motormaster hit hard. 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!” he bellowed. 

“What’s the point in telling him to shut up? We’re already the laughingstock of the Decepticon Army. Nothing you tell him to do will change that now,” Dead End said mournfully. In response, Motormaster hit him, too. 

“Shut up, Dead End! If I wanted your opinion, I’d have asked for it!” he yelled. Motormaster didn’t have an indoor voice, but Wildrider didn’t really mind that. It was loud, so it helped keep the voices away. Wildrider did, however, mind when Motormaster knocked him to the ground and started punching and kicking him, because that gave him owies. Suddenly, Megatron’s voice came over the base’s loudspeakers. 

“Motormaster, report to me at once, and bring your team with you!” he exclaimed. At this, Motormaster stopped beating up Wildrider, and a smile spread across his faceplates. Being specifically summoned by Megatron was a very big deal.

“Hear that, losers? This “clumsy newbuilt” and his team just got a personal call from Lord Megatron!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Just a Hallucination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motormaster may have celebrated prematurely.

All five Stunticons were assembled in Lord Megatron’s throne room. As always, Soundwave was standing to the right of the throne, a silent display of loyalty and creepiness. Breakdown whimpered in terror. Wildrider understood why. He was scared of Soundwave, too. While he didn’t mind being watched like Breaky did, he hated quiet, and Soundwave was nothing but quiet. After a few seconds of waiting, Megatron emerged and sat down on his throne. Motormaster, who idolized Megatron, immediately went down on one knee, and Wildrider and his brothers copied the gesture to avoid getting beaten by Motormaster later. Soundwave stared at them, shifted into a blueberry, then returned to his normal form.   
“What are your orders, Lord Megatron?” Motormaster asked.   
“I have no orders for you today, Motormaster. I called you here to inform you that I am expelling you from the Decepticon ranks,” Megatron replied.  
“W...what?” Motormaster asked.   
“It has been almost two Earth years since I created you, and you have utterly failed in your purpose as the ultimate Decepticon warriors. Breakdown and Wildrider have such severe processor glitches that they’ll never be proper soldiers, Dead End is a drain on morale, Drag Strip is insufferable and causes needless hostilities in the ranks, and you have utterly failed as a leader. You are a powerful, aggressive warrior, but you have no sense of strategy or tactics, and you’re hopelessly incompetent in a command position. What’s more, Menasor is almost as much of a threat to our own forces as to the Autobots! He has proven to be a failed experiment, and, as such, you have no more value to me,” Megatron replied. Breakdown let out a loud wail and started sobbing, Drag Strip scowled, Dead End sighed sadly, and Motormaster just looked stunned. For his part, Wildrider decided to turn off his optics and hope that he was the only one who was experiencing this.   
“But Lord Megatron-you created us!” Motormaster exclaimed. He actually sounded kind of upset. Wildrider relaxed slightly. Motormaster never sounded upset, so he was probably hallucinating again. He hoped.   
“I created you to be a weapon against the Autobots, and you failed to fulfill that function. And what do we do with failed weaponry? We dispose of it,” Megatron replied coldly. Wildrider frowned. He was hallucinating again; he had to be, because if he wasn’t, then he and Motormaster and his brothers were all in big trouble!  
“We’re doomed,” Dead End muttered quietly. Normally, Wildrider thought Dead End’s dramatic proclamations of doom and gloom were kind of funny. They weren’t nearly so funny when it seemed like they might be about to come true. Breakdown’s sobbing got louder.   
“But Megatron, sir, you can’t get rid of us! I’m the best, remember?” Drag Strip said. He was trying to sound tough, but instead he just sounded really worried. Megatron laughed, and shards of glass flew everywhere when he did.   
“You? The best? The only thing any of you have proven to be “the best” at is irritating your allies and destroying morale! I should have expelled you all from the ranks a long time ago!” Megatron exclaimed. In response, Motormaster made a noise that would have been a whine from anyone but Motormaster.   
“Lord Megatron, you can’t do this to me! I’ve always been loyal to you!” he protested. Wildrider shook his head. It was just a hallucination. Just a hallucination. Just a hallucination. Please let it be a hallucination!   
“Yeah! We saved you from Starscream when he tried to overthrow you with the Combaticons, didn’t we? Surely that’s proof that I’m awesome enough to keep around,” Drag Strip added, fear easy to hear in his voice. Wildrider onlined his optics again. At this point, he was either hallucinating or he wasn’t. Having his optics closed wasn’t going to make either a hallucination or Megatron actually kicking them out go away.   
“As I recall, the only reason that your rescue of me was necessary was because you neglected to join up with me when I ordered you to. You may not be treacherous, but neither are you reliable. That, combined with your utter incompetence, makes you a liability, and I do not keep liabilities in my army,” Megatron replied, and, just like the triple changers before him, he started to twist and warp. Wildrider shuddered. Why couldn’t he at least look normal?   
“Lord Megatron, please-” Motormaster began. Wildrider winced. If Motormaster was saying please, then Dead End was right. They were doomed. Unless he was hallucinating...but no. This had lasted too long to be a hallucination, even for someone as crazy as he was. Megatron really was kicking them out of the only life they’d ever known.   
“This conversation is over!” Megatron exclaimed. He ripped the Decepticon symbol off of Motormaster’s chest and forced him to his feet. A purple fish moved across Wildrider’s field of vision and then vanished. It probably knew that being near the Stunticons wasn’t safe now.   
“W-what’re you gonna do with us?” Drag Strip asked weakly as Motormaster attempted to break free of Megatron’s grip.   
“He’s going to execute us immediately-if we’re lucky, which I doubt,” Dead End replied. Breakdown let out a particularly loud wail and curled up into a little ball, sucking his thumb and rocking back and forth. Wildrider wondered vaguely if the voices would die when he did or if they would move on to torment someone else once he was no longer around.   
“Why waste energy on executing you when I can exile you and let starvation do my work for me? As of this moment, you are neutrals, and that means that you will no longer have access to the energy or resources of the Decepticon army. Furthermore, if I were you, I would stay away from your former allies. Hunting neutrals is a favorite sport of Decepticons, after all. And, just to make sure you don’t get any ideas about using Menasor to seek revenge on me….” Megatron said. With that, he grabbed Motormaster’s sword out of his hand, turned into a shark, and then used the sword to cut into both of Motormaster’s legs. Motormaster bellowed in pain as his legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground.   
“What’d you do to me?” Motormaster asked. Dead End walked over to the semi, examined his wounds, and sighed wearily.   
“He severed the hydraulics in your legs. In effect, he’s crippled you and ensured that your legs would be unable to support the weight of forming Menasor,” Dead End replied.  
“I’m sorry for failin’ you, Lord Megatron! I’m sorry, an’ I’ll make it up to you, I promise! I’ll do anything! You can punish me as much as you like. Just please, don’t kick me out!” Motormaster begged as he pulled himself to his knees. Wildrider was disturbed at how much Motormaster was sounding like Breakdown. In response, Megatron backhanded the semi, knocking him to the ground.  
“Silence!” Megatron barked. A sad mango floated by as Dead End and Drag Strip, with great effort, helped a shocked Motormaster back to his feet. Then Soundwave shot something, and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.


	3. Stunticon Season!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motormaster's angry, Wildrider's confused, and Dead End is sure that the Stunticons are doomed. A Tuesday.
> 
> Trigger warning for Motormaster.

When Wildrider awoke, he didn’t have his Decepticon symbol anymore, and he wasn’t in the  _ Victory _ . Instead, he, Motormaster, and his brothers were in a desert. Or possibly a giant container of ice cream. Wildrider wasn’t sure. He also didn’t have his gun anymore, which made him sad. His scattershot gun had been his friend; it had helped to keep the voices away. It seemed like he had been the last one to wake up. Drag Strip was pacing around, Breakdown was sucking his thumb and rocking back and forth again, Motormaster was sitting down and seemed stunned, and Dead End was standing over him. 

“I see that you are not yet offline. A pity. It means that all five of us are alive to suffer and die a slow, painful death,” Dead End said.

“At least we’re still together,” Wildrider replied. If he had to die painfully, he would much rather do it with his brothers than all alone with the voices. Drag Strip snorted. 

“Shut up, Wildrider. I’m not in the mood for your quirks. If it weren’t for your craziness, I might not be in this mess! I mean, I’m awesome and win at everything, so the only reason I could’ve gotten in trouble is because of you and Breakdown and Dead End. I’d be a lot better off without you guys,” Drag Strip snapped. Wildrider didn’t take it personally. Drag Strip’s overinflated view of himself and need to win all the time wasn’t his fault, any more than Breakdown’s paranoia was his fault or Dead End’s gloominess was his fault. They had all come online glitched, as Dead End liked to say. 

“It doesn’t matter whether you stay with us or not. We’re doomed either way,” Dead End replied mournfully. Then Breakdown ran over to Drag Strip and grabbed onto him. 

“P-p-please don’t leave us, Drag Strip! I know I’m nothing but a liability, and I’m sorry for pulling you down, but we need you! We need to stick together, or the Decepticons will get us! Please stay!” Breakdown wailed. 

“Well, I guess you would be lost without my awesomeness. It’s not your fault that you’re not as awesome as I am, and besides, what would I do without an audience? I’m staying, okay? Don’t have a cow,” Drag Strip replied. Breakdown sighed in relief, and Dead End shook his head wearily. Wildrider, for his part, looked over at Motormaster curiously. He’d been quiet since Wildrider had woken up, and Motormaster was never quiet. What was going on with him? 

“Are you all right, boss?” he asked. Motormaster scowled. 

“My leader-my  _ creator _ -called me a failure, threw me out of the Decepticons, crippled me, and dumped me in some desert to starve with no company but the worthless, stupid idiots who caused me to fail in the first place. Do you THINK I’m “all right”?” he bellowed. 

“Uh-no?” Wildrider guessed. 

“Good guess, lunatic. I’m not alright-I’m FURIOUS! It’s not fair! I’ve been loyal to him for my whole life, and he rewards me by taking everything away from me? I could understand why he might wanna get rid of you worthless losers, but why me? I’m not crazy like you or a wuss like Breakdown or a sulk like Dead End or a blowhard like Drag Strip. I’m strong, tough, fast, and don’t show mercy to nobody! I’ve been everything he told me a Decepticon was! Why would he do this to me?” Motormaster demanded. 

“It is quite simple, my dear Motormaster. Megatron views you the way you view Breakdown: as someone whose loyalty simply cannot overcome the fact that they are incapable of fulfilling their duties,” Dead End replied. 

“That ain’t the same at all! Breakdown actually is useless. I’m not!” Motormaster snarled. 

“Neither of you are useless. What matters is the fact that you are perceived as useless by your superior. Megatron is treating you the way that you treat Breakdown, and you’re in denial because you don’t want to admit that you’re getting a taste of your own electro-medicine, one that is richly deserved. Only the fact that the rest of us got dragged into it as well keeps it from being satisfying, but then again, I can’t say it surprises me. After all, we were created to suffer,” Dead End replied. Motormaster glared at him, and then the purple fish popped up again. 

“Shut up,” he muttered. Wildrider frowned. Motormaster was grumpy, and a grumpy Motormaster usually meant that he was going to get owies. 

“Uh, End? As much as I enjoy seeing Motormaster getting taken down a peg, we probably need to figure out what we’re going to do next- _ before  _ Breakdown shuts down or Wildrider does something stupid,” Drag Strip said. 

“What’s the point? We’re doomed. We utterly lack the capacity to survive on our own,” Dead End replied listlessly. 

“Come on, End, enough with the doom and gloom! I’m here, so we ain’t sunk yet,” Drag Strip insisted. The sun glinted off his plating, and bright flames of orange and yellow and red and blue burst everywhere before vanishing. 

“Oooh, pretty fire!” Wildrider exclaimed. Dead End and Drag Strip both looked at him oddly for a few seconds, then returned to their conversation. 

“If that is the case, what is your plan of action, Drag Strip?” Dead End asked. 

“Uh, I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet,” Drag Strip replied awkwardly. Motormaster gave out a harsh laugh. 

“In case you idiots have forgotten, I’m still your leader. If anybody’s gonna be makin’ decisions about what to do next, it’s gonna be  _ me _ ,” he snapped. 

“Leader, my foot! You can’t even walk without help anymore,” Drag Strip sneered. Motormaster’s hand shot out (he was surprisingly fast for such a big mech) and grabbed Drag Strip’s throat, prompting the race car to squeak nervously. 

“You wanna say that again, you worthless loser?” Motormaster growled.

“N-no, boss!” Drag Strip replied. Motormaster dropped him.

“That’s what I thought. You talk a big game, but when you’re confronted with a real mech, you’re as yellow as your paint job. Anybody else wanna challenge my leadership?” the semi asked. Wildrider quickly shook his head. 

“Nope! I’m good, boss!” Wildrider had never wanted to be a leader; trying to match up his reality with everyone else’s reality was already too much work for him. 

“N-n-no, sir,” Breakdown stammered. 

“What point would there be in challenging you? Not only would it be futile, as you are much stronger than I, but it also does not matter who is in charge. We are doomed to a painful death regardless,” Dead End said. 

“Good. Now, where’s the nearest fuel source?” Motormaster asked. 

“Forty miles away. However, getting to it will be almost prohibitively difficult. You see, the severed cables in your legs will prevent you from transforming, which means that, unless you want us to leave you here and carry out the raid without you, it will take several hours, if not longer, for us to reach it,” Dead End replied promptly. Motormaster scowled and punched Wildrider. 

“Couldn’t we just fly there?” Drag Strip asked. 

“Yeah, why can’t we just fly there?” Motormaster added. Dead End gave one of his big, sad-sounding sighs.

“Check your HUDs,” Dead End replied. Wildrider did, even though he knew it was probably pointless. The only thing his HUD ever seemed to show was a random jumble of letters, numbers, and symbols. Sure enough, that was what popped up when he checked it, but this time, there was also an orange floating in it. That was weird. 

“How do I get this orange out of my HUD?” he asked. The others looked at him oddly for a few seconds, then turned away from him again. Wildrider realized that that meant that he had probably been seeing things and that the orange was yet another thing that his malfunctioning CPU had dreamed up. Then Motormaster swore really, really loudly.

“We can’t fly no more!” he bellowed. Breakdown let out a soft noise that sounded like a deflating squeaky toy or a recently squished squishy. 

“We’re gonna die we’re gonna die we’re gonna  _ die _ !” he wailed. 

“Why can’t we fly anymore?” Drag Strip asked. He sounded almost as angry as Motormaster, which was kind of impressive. 

“I am not entirely certain, but I suspect that Megatron had our antigravitational technology removed in order to ensure that we will not survive for very long now that we have outlived our usefulness,” Dead End replied. Breakdown’s wailing tapered off into a really high-pitched squeaking cry. Then he ran to Dead End and latched onto the Porsche’s arm, and a pink rabbit jumped onto Motormaster’s head.

“Boss, why is there a pink rabbit on your head?” Wildrider asked. Before he got an answer, though, a shell flew through the air and exploded. Only his reflexes saved him from getting a limb blown off. The explosion was followed by a booming laugh.

“HAW! That’s right, you crazy weirdo! Run!” The voice came from a big brownish-green tank. At least, Wildrider thought that was what had happened. His world wasn’t reliable, after all.

“Scrap, it’s Brawl! What’s he doing here?” Drag Strip asked, as Dead End and Breakdown narrowly avoided being barbecued by a blast from a grey helicopter. 

“The same thing we’re doing here-hunting down some neutrals,” Vortex replied before letting out a spinal-strut-chilling cackle. A few seconds later, a yellow jeep popped up and started shooting as well. 

“Nothing personal, you understand. Many of my best business partners are neutrals, but the price your components will fetch me is too tempting to resist,” Swindle said. Motormaster struggled to get to his feet, but couldn’t manage it with his damaged legs and instead face planted into the sand. It would have been funny if they weren’t facing three heavily armed Combaticons with no weapons. At least the explosions of the battle (and Brawl’s audio receptor-splitting battle cries) kept the voices away. If he was going to die, at least it would be surrounded by noise and all of his brothers. With this in mind, he let out a loud laugh, transformed, and drove straight at Brawl. 

“GANGWAY!” he exclaimed, speeding up as he closed in on the tank. Then there was a loud roar, a flash of light, and everything went black for the second time in less than three hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.


	4. Interrogating Wildrider: Easier Than It Looks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots have arrived.

When Wildrider awoke, he found himself in a cell with orange walls and groaned. He knew what this meant. Unless he was hallucinating again, the Autobots had somehow gotten involved in the fight and captured them. A giant blue Furby called him “mama” and disappeared, and then he looked around to see that his brothers (and Motormaster) were also in cells. That meant that they were alive, which was good news. The bad news was that they weren’t awake yet, so everything was quiet and the voices started up again. 

“ _ Everything that’s happened to your brothers is your fault.”  _

_ “The Autobots are probably going to torture you for information.”  _

_ “Or just execute him.”  _

_ “Too bad the Combaticons didn’t do that. I hate having to spend time with this crazy pineapple. He’s so annoying.”  _

“What’s wrong with me being a pineapple?” Wildrider demanded. 

“He’s awake!” The voice came from a minibot with a funny domed head. 

“And talking nonsense. Of all the Stunticons to wake up first, why did it have to be the lunatic? He’ll never provide any useful information.” That was a blue robot with a red face. Wildrider decided that the face was probably made out of pepperoni, but he couldn’t decide what his body was made of. 

“Is your body made out of blueberries?” he asked. The dome-headed minibot sighed.

“I agree with you, but orders are orders. We have to take him to High Command for questioning,” he said. With that, the two Autobots shut off the bars to his cell. Wildrider tried to bolt, but was grabbed by the minibot and had energon cuffs slapped on his wrists before he could get very far. 

“Is this the part where you tell me that I have the right to remain silent?” Wildrider asked. He’d seen that on a squishy TV show one time. Much to his annoyance, the two Autobots ignored his question as they led him down the hall and into a room filled with more Autobots. He recognized Silverbolt, the leader of the Aerialbots, the slow red Autobot with the funny voice, and Optimus Prime, the Autobot leader, but the rest were mostly unknown to him. The blueberry Autobot with the pepperoni face and the dome-headed minibot removed his cuffs and carefully secured him to a chair which had restraints for his wrists and ankles, then left him with what he assumed was the “High Command”, whatever that meant. Maybe they were in charge of commanding things that were really high up, like Blast Off when he went into outer space. 

“Oh, great, the lunatic woke up first. Just our luck,” the slow red Autobot said. 

“The fact that we’re interrogating him first might actually be a good thing, Ironhide. His condition means he’s less likely to lie to us than the others,” a black-and-white Autobot with door-wings replied. Wildrider smiled. He was probably made of Oreos. 

“I like Oreos. They look really neat,” he said. The Autobots looked at him in confusion. 

“You still sure that havin’ to interrogate him first is a good idea, Prowl?” the slow red Autobot asked. 

“Ironhide’s got a point, Prowl. Wildrider may not have the capacity to lie to us, but he also might not have the capacity to answer our questions rationally, or even to understand them,” a white Autobot with red crosses on his arms said.

“I said he’s made of Oreos because he’s black and white. Just like I’m a pineapple because I have spikes,” Wildrider explained. 

“Enough about Earth foods, Wildrider. Can you understand what we’re talking about?” the Oreo Autobot asked. 

“Yeah. You’re not sure if I’m too crazy to understand and answer your questions,” Wildrider replied, mildly insulted. He was definitely crazy, but he wasn’t stupid! He could understand them just fine! 

“I stand corrected. Evidently, he can understand us,” the white Autobot with the red crosses said. The red Autobot still looked skeptical. 

“If you say so,” he muttered. The Oreo Autobot ignored him to focus on Wildrider.

“Why were the Combaticons shooting at you, Wildrider?” he asked. 

“Brawl and Vortex wanted to kill us, and Swindle wanted to sell our parts,” Wildrider replied. Then a giant squid appeared and started floating around his head. 

“Why weren’t you shooting back?” the Oreo Autobot asked. He hadn’t mentioned the giant squid, so maybe it had been a hallucination. Or the Oreo Autobot was trying to psyche him out by not talking about it. Both were possible. 

“Because we don’t have our guns anymore. I miss my gun. It keeps the scary voices away,” Wildrider replied. 

“Why don’t you have your guns anymore, my man?” That question was from another black-and-white Autobot, one that had a blue visor. 

“Because Megatron took them when he kicked us out of the Decepticons,” Wildrider replied. The assembled Autobots stared at him in shock, much to his confusion. He knew he hadn’t hallucinated that, so why were they looking at him funny? 

“Megatron expelled you from the Decepticon ranks?” the Oreo Autobot asked. 

“Uh-huh. He said Motormaster was a bad leader and that we were a failed experiment and not good weapons ‘cause we’re all glitched in the head, and so he doesn’t want us anymore,” Wildrider explained. 

“Megatron turned you out to fend for yourselves?” That was Optimus Prime. No one had a voice quite like his. It was deep and warm and always a little sad. Right now it sounded very sad, though Wildrider wasn’t sure why. 

“Yeah. ‘Course, he gave Motormaster owies so he couldn’t walk without help or transform or form Menasor first. He didn’t want Motormaster to be able to beat him up for kicking him out,” Wildrider replied.

“That would explain why the hydraulics in Motormaster’s legs were slashed when we found him,” the white Autobot with the red crosses said. He sounded angry, though Wildrider wasn’t sure why. Decepticons gave their disappointing subordinates owies all the time.

“Are you certain that Megatron permanently removed you from the ranks?” the Oreo Autobot asked him. Wildrider nodded. 

“Pretty sure. He said we weren’t Decepticons anymore, and he and the Combaticons both called us “neutrals”, so I think that means that we’re not Decepticons now. What is a neutral, anyway?” he replied. 

“Neutrals are Cybertronians who are unaffiliated with either the Autobots or the Decepticons, and, if Megatron has indeed removed you and your fellow Stunticons from the ranks of the Decepticons, you fit that definition, since you’re no longer Decepticons but also aren’t allied with us. The fact that the five of you are now neutrals also puts us in a bit of an awkward position, since we can’t legally keep neutrals as prisoners of war. However, you’re far too dangerous to the people of Earth for us to allow you to roam freely, so we can’t just let you go, either,” the Oreo Autobot said. A giant yo-yo appeared, flew around the room, and then vanished, much to Wildrider’s annoyance. Normally, he didn’t mind the randomly-appearing objects, but under the circumstances, they were kind of frustrating. He was trying to focus! 

“Then what are you going to do with us? You’re not gonna kill us, are you?” Wildrider hoped not. Drag Strip still had races to win, he wanted to be able to keep driving and creating big explosions, and Breaky would be terrified of being killed.

“Absolutely not. We don’t execute anyone without a proper trial. What’s more, the five of you were literally created to be weapons for Megatron’s army. From the moment you came online, you were programmed to be both destructive and self-destructive. You have been taught nothing but how to fight, and I very much doubt that you have ever been given a choice as to what side you wanted to be on. It would be unfair to punish you for a decision that you did not make,” Optimus Prime replied. 

“Besides, you ruffians are much too young to be given a sentence of execution. You may have been created in adult frames, but your sparks aren’t even a vorn old. You’re still considered sparklings by Iaconian law, and that means that you can’t be held legally liable for crimes in the way that a mature mech can,” the white Autobot with the red crosses added. 

“What’s a sparkling?” Wildrider asked. 

“You are, technically. Didn't the Decepticreeps teach you lunatics anything?” the slow red Autobot (Ironhide?) replied. 

“They taught us how to shoot Autobots and beat up Autobots and make Energon cubes. What’s a sparkling? Does it mean someone who turns into a car? Or a pineapple?” Wildrider replied. After all, he was a pineapple, and he turned into a car, so if he was a sparkling, then maybe a sparkling was one of those things. 

“No, on both counts. A sparkling is a young Cybertronian, essentially the equivalent of a human child. Haven’t you read anything about our species?” the Oreo Autobot asked. 

“I can’t read. Motormaster says it’s for wimps, and when Dead End tried to teach me how, I couldn’t focus long enough to learn. Also, the datapad kept turning into a tomato,” Wildrider replied, wondering why the Autobots thought he could read. He was a soldier, not a scientist like Mixmaster or a doctor like Hook. Why would Megatron need him to be able to read?

“They didn’t even teach you how to read?” Optimus Prime asked, sounding even more sad. Wildrider shook his head. 

“Dead End taught himself how to read, because he’s a smart cookie, but the rest of us don’t know how. Motormaster and Drag Strip don’t want to learn ‘cause they think it’s for wusses, I’m too crazy to learn, and Breakdown’s too scared of Motormaster to try to learn,” he replied. 

“And nobody else in Decepticon HQ even tried to teach you?” That was the white Autobot with the red crosses again, sounding just as angry as before.

“Nope. Why would they? We were supposed to drive and fight and make a really big robot. We didn’t need to be able to read to do that,” Wildrider replied. The red Autobot swore. 

“Of all the dirty, no-good, low-down stunts Megatron has pulled, this has gotta be one of the worst. He created these lunatic sparklings to be  _ tools _ , Optimus! They ain’t even soldiers to him. Soldiers are mechs, at least. In his twisted CPU, the Stunticons are weapons, _ things _ , not sentient mechs! Megatron just programmed them with instructions and pointed ‘em at us, then threw them away when they malfunctioned. It’s sick!” he exclaimed angrily. 

“I know,” Optimus Prime replied quietly. His frame twisted, warped, and bent, and Wildrider shuddered.

“Uh, so if you ain’t gonna execute us, and you can’t keep us prisoner, and you can’t let us go, what are you gonna do with us?” he asked nervously. 

“We’re going to take legal guardianship of you and rehabilitate you,” Optimus Prime replied. Wildrider stared at him blankly. 

“You’re gonna what?” 

“We’re taking responsibility for you and your future behavior, and we intend to help you and your brothers learn how to be something more than a weapon for Megatron,” Prime said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear, "dome-headed minibot" is Brawn, "blueberry Autobot with pepperoni face" is Tracks, and "Oreo Autobot" is Prowl. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


	5. Doc Ratchet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet is going to have his hands full....

The Oreo Autobot released Wildrider from the interrogation chair, and then the white Autobot with the red crosses on his arms led him to another room, one that was clearly the medbay. Wildrider wondered what they were doing there. He wasn’t unconscious, suffering a massive system failure, or missing any limbs. He knew those were the requirements to get into Hook’s medbay if your name wasn’t Megatron, Starscream, or Soundwave, and surely an Autobot medic would be even less likely to want to repair him, even if he wasn’t technically a Decepticon anymore. 

“Get on the exam table,” the white Autobot with the red crosses said. Wildrider obeyed him, still confused as to why he was here. 

“Um, what’s your name?” Wildrider asked. The yo-yo from earlier reappeared, but Wildrider did his best to ignore it. It wasn’t helping anything. 

“I’m Ratchet. I’m the Chief Medical Officer here, which means that I’m now responsible for keeping you reasonably healthy and in one piece,” the white robot replied. 

“Hi, Doc Ratchet. Why am I here? I feel okay,” Wildrider asked. 

“You’re here so that I can examine your CPU. The way you act indicates some form of processor damage, and if you’re going to be living in the Ark from now on, I’d like to know exactly what I’m dealing with as far as your mental state is concerned,” Ratchet replied. 

“I can tell you what you’re dealing with, Doc. I’m crazy. At least, that’s what everybody says. Although they also say that I’m loony or nutty or insane or a whacko sometimes,” Wildrider said. He couldn’t say he particularly enjoyed his status as “the craziest of those crazy Stunticons”, as Ramjet had once mockingly put it, but he couldn’t deny that it was true. 

“Be that as it may, “crazy” is not a very detailed description of your mental state. If we’re going to be dealing with your issues, I need to know the details of your condition, not just the label that the Decepticons slapped on you. In order to do that, I need to examine your processor,” Ratchet replied. Then a beach ball flew across the medbay.

“Did you see that beach ball, Doc?” Wildrider asked. 

“No, but I believe that you did. And don’t call me Doc!” 

“Sorry, Doc,” Wildrider replied. Ratchet sighed. 

“Never mind. Now, we’re going to have to put you under so that I can examine your processor. Do you know what that means?” 

“Are you going to put me underneath the table, Doc?” Ratchet actually laughed at that. 

“No, it means I’m going to put you into temporary stasis so that I don’t accidentally hurt you while I’m examining you,” he replied. 

“Hook doesn’t do that, Doc,” Wildrider said. Ratchet made a “hmph!” sound. 

“I don’t doubt that he doesn’t, but I do. Autobot medics make a point of not making their patients endure any more discomfort than is absolutely necessary. And stop calling me Doc!”

“Sorry, Doc,” Wildrider replied. Ratchet muttered something that sounded like “Matrix give me strength”. Then he opened a panel on Wildrider’s arm and inserted a cable into his arm. 

“All right, Wildrider. Count backwards from ten.” 

“Ten...nine….eight...the number that comes after eight…” Wildrider’s last conscious thought was that he had been knocked unconscious through one method or another more times today than he usually got knocked unconscious in a month. When he came to, Ratchet was standing over him, looking upset. 

“Am I gonna live, Doc?” he asked. He’d heard someone say that in a squishy movie once. 

“Yes. Physically, you’re in perfect health...but your CPU is corrupted to an extent that I’ve only seen a few times in my career. Your optical and audio feeds are receiving far too much input; there’s practically an electrical storm in those areas of your CPU. What’s more, your logic and reasoning circuits are almost totally fried, and the activity that they’re showing is completely abnormal,” Ratchet replied. Wildrider wasn’t entirely sure what the medic had said, but he got the gist of it: his CPU was totally busted. 

“Why, Doc?” 

“Most likely, it’s a programming glitch. No one really knows the full details of why certain mechs come online with them, but they do, and although their symptoms can be treated, they can’t actually be cured. Your symptoms most closely resemble those of a glitch called Scissa Processor. It’s similar to what the humans call Schizophrenia,” Ratchet replied, sounding tired. 

“Oh. Is there anything you can do about it, Doc?” Wildrider asked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted something to be done with it, never having known what it was like not to see things and hear voices that didn’t seem to exist in anyone else’s reality, but it would be nice to finally be rid of the mean voices. Ratchet frowned. 

“I’m not sure. There are some programming patches that help to treat symptoms of glitches like this, but they’re difficult to produce, and they’ve been in very short supply since the war broke out. I’ll try to get ahold of some, but I don’t know how consistently I’ll be able to provide you with them. In all likelihood, we’ll just have to deal with your symptoms as they happen.” Wildrider nodded as he hopped off the table. He was used to trying to ignore the voices and the weird things he saw.

“Oh. Okay. Are you done with me, Doc?” Before Ratchet could answer, the red Autobot came into the room, dragging a struggling Breakdown behind him. 

“L-let me go! Let me go! You wanna kill me! You hate me, and you want me to die, and I’m not gonna let you kill me!” he wailed. 

“We ain’t gonna kill you! I told ya that three times already! Ratchet’s a medic; it’s his job to help you,” the red Autobot yelled. Breakdown just thrashed more wildly. 

“Y-you’re lying! I know what medics do! They don’t l-l-like me! They want to see me die, and they hurt me worse when I go see them, and Hook is scary and hates me and you’re Autobots so you hate me even more and I won’t let you hurt me!” Wildrider frowned. Breaky’s paranoia must’ve gone into overdrive when he’d woken up in Autobot HQ. 

“Easy, Breaky. I know medics are freaky and the Constructicons are made of limes and eggplants, but Doc Ratchet’s already looked at me, and I’m okay, so you’ll be okay too,” Wildrider said. Breaky looked at him in surprise. 

“W-Wildrider?” he asked. 

“Hiya, Breaky!” 

“H-h-how do I know that they haven’t reprogrammed you so that you c-c-can’t tell me they’re going to hurt me?” Breakdown asked. 

“Because if I’d reprogrammed him, he wouldn’t be calling me “Doc” anymore. Look, kid, I know you’re terrified of almost everyone, and given where you’ve spent most of your life, I can’t blame you, but I promise I won’t hurt you. I’ll even let Wildrider watch to make sure that I don’t do anything, okay?” Ratchet replied. Breakdown didn’t look convinced, but he reluctantly climbed onto the exam table anyway, grabbing Wildrider’s hand as he did so. Then a golf club tap-danced on the red Autobot’s shoulder. 

“Breakdown, I’m Ratchet, the Autobots’ Chief Medical Officer. I’m going to be examining your CPU for abnormalities, and in order to do that, I’m going to need to put you into temporary stasis. I will not do anything to harm you or to alter your mind, and if I do try to do something like that, Ironhide and your brother will stop me. Now, I need you to count backwards from ten,” Ratchet said gently. He opened a panel on Breakdown’s arm, patted it softly, and inserted the cable. Breakdown whimpered, but didn’t start thrashing or otherwise struggling. 

“T-ten….nine...eight...seven...six.” With that, Breaky was offline, and Ratchet started to plug some smaller cables into his head. 

“You want me to take the lunatic back to his cell now?” Ironhide asked. 

“No. If Breakdown wakes up and he isn’t there, I’ll never be able to convince him that we didn’t do something to harm him,” Ratchet replied. Ironhide nodded and left the room. After a few minutes of Ratchet doing confusing medical stuff, Wildrider started pacing. This was getting boring, and the room was way too quiet! The voices might come back soon if he didn’t do something! Then he noticed that the computer screen had stuff on it, so he went over to it to see what it was. It was a picture of something, complete with a lot of words he couldn’t read. 

“What’s this, Doc?” 

“That’s Breakdown’s CPU. Well, actually, it’s a picture of Breakdown’s CPU that my equipment is creating so that I can have a better idea of what’s going on at any given moment in his CPU,” Ratchet replied. 

“And what is going on, Doc?” 

“You’ll find out when I finish my examination. Now sit down and don’t touch my equipment,” Ratchet replied. Wildrider complied and started humming to himself to make sure the voices stayed away. A group of sheep, a pink Vortex, and a giant traffic cone entered and exited the room as he hummed and Ratchet worked, but the voices stayed away, and eventually Breakdown woke up. 

“D-d-did he do anything to hurt me, W-W-Wildrider?” 

“Nope,” Wildrider replied. 

“Are you s-sure?” 

“Yep.” 

“Well, Breakdown, my examination revealed that you’ve got a personality glitch that’s nigh-identical to that of our security director’s. Both you and Red Alert have CPUs with activity patterns that match those observed in individuals with a glitch called Paranoikos, which causes the paranoid delusions that both of you display,” Ratchet replied. Breakdown nodded. 

“C-c-can I go now, please?” he asked. 

“Yes, you are both dismissed.” Soon after, they were escorted to what appeared to be a large holding cell by Ironhide and the Oreo Autobot. Much to Wildrider’s delight, the room was large enough for him to drive around in, so he transformed into his alternate mode and lost himself in the joy of speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wildrider's condition is based, of course, on the real-world mental disorder known as schizophrenia. I have been doing my best to accurately represent what the condition is like, but, since I do not personally have the disorder, I may not be representing everything correctly. If you do have Schizophrenia (or have a relative who does), I would welcome any and all advice on how to more properly write the disorder. I strive to present symptoms as accurately as is reasonably possible, but I am by no means an expert on this subject. 
> 
> It is also worth emphasizing that people with schizophrenia are not especially prone to violence, and that all people present symptoms differently. 
> 
> If you are struggling with mental illness, here is a link to a website that has some sources that can help:   
> https://www.mentalhealth.gov/get-help/immediate-help
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


	6. Survival Strategies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stunticons try to figure out what to do next.
> 
> Trigger warning for Motormaster.

When Dead End and Drag Strip were brought into the holding cell as well, Wildrider stopped driving, transformed into robot mode, and waved. 

“Hi, Dead End! Hi, Drag Strip!” he exclaimed as Breakdown immediately latched onto Dead End. Dead End just sighed wearily. 

“We’re doomed,” he said. 

“What makes you say that? The Autobozos are too soft-sparked to execute us. They said so themselves! We’re gonna be fine!” Drag Strip exclaimed. 

“No, we are not. The Autobot medic confirmed my suspicion that all of our CPUs are corrupted, and when the Autobots realize that this means that we cannot be “rehabilitated”, they will lock us up in some institution where they will no longer have to concern themselves with our welfare or abandon us to our own devices. This, in turn, will lead to our slow, painful deactivations,” Dead End replied. Breakdown let out a loud wail and started sobbing again. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, End? We’ve got me! As long as I’m around, we’ll be fine, because I never lose,” Drag Strip said. He didn’t sound very confident, though. A pogo stick bounced around the room, and Wildrider frowned. There had to be some way to make sure that they’d be okay besides relying on Drag Strip’s debatable record of victory, right? 

“Maybe if we find a way to make the Autobots happy, they won’t get rid of us,” he said. Drag Strip snorted. 

“What, you want us to become their pets? Not gonna happen,” he sneered. 

“Actually, while we will ultimately fail to keep the Autobots happy, and are undoubtedly doomed, Wildrider’s idea has merit. We are currently completely dependent on the Autobots for our continued functioning, and as such, we cannot afford to antagonize them. Catering to their whims, as unpleasant as it may be, is the best way to postpone our demise for as long as possible,” Dead End said. Wildrider smiled. If Dead End liked his idea, it had to be good! 

“There’s only one problem with that idea, End: Wildrider and Breakdown are nuts! You and I can clean stuff and play fetch-and-carry just fine, but Wildrider’s totally unreliable, and Breakdown freezes up or panics the second he thinks someone’s looking at him,” Drag Strip replied. 

“Hey! I can do stuff just as well as you!” Wildrider exclaimed. He might be crazy, but he wasn’t totally useless! He’d been a go-fer for the Constructions lots of times!

“Can not!” 

“Can too!”   
“Can not!”   
“Can too!” 

“Can not!” 

“Can too!” 

“Enough! Drag Strip, Wildrider and Breakdown may be hopelessly glitched and doomed to early deaths, but they are not utterly incompetent, and when their glitches get in the way of following orders, we will cover for them, as we did when we were Decepticons,” Dead End said. 

“Can not,” Drag Strip muttered. A few minutes later, Ironhide and another red Autobot dragged a furious Motormaster into the holding cell as well. His legs seemed to be repaired. Motormaster swore at the Autobots’ departing backs, then glared at his subordinates. 

“I hate all of you!” He smacked Drag Strip across the face and then sat down sullenly. 

“Motormaster, we were discussing our current situation and-” Dead End began.

“I KNOW what our “current situation” is! And I also know that I’d rather die than try to live by their rules!” Motormaster snarled. 

“Motormaster, we have no choice. While we are all doomed to die, I would rather not expedite my death any more than I have to. If that means being the Autobots’ drone laborer, then so be it,” Dead End replied.

“You want us to play nice with our enemies? To pretend that we wanna be like them and don’t mind workin’ our tailpipes off for them for nothin’?” Motormaster yelled. 

“I-I-I wouldn’t m-m-mind being like them. They’re nice to each other,” Breakdown whispered. Motormaster glared at him, and he whimpered in fear. 

“Strictly speaking, Motormaster, the Autobots are no longer our enemies. When we were expelled from the Decepticon ranks, they ceased to be our enemies by virtue of the fact that we no longer belong to the army which they oppose. While the Autobots will no doubt soon tire of us and leave us to our inevitable self-destruction, at present they are our only chance of survival, and I for one would rather take my chances with them than on my own, hunted by our former allies,” Dead End said. A jump rope dropped from the sky and landed on Drag Strip, which made Wildrider giggle. That looked funny. 

“What’re you laughing about, Wildrider? I don’t think this situation is very funny,” Drag Strip asked. 

“You’ve got a jump rope on your head, Drag Strip, and that made me laugh,” Wildrider explained. The blank stare that prompted clued Wildrider in to the fact that the jump rope had probably been another hallucination. Too bad. It had been funny. 

“You’re nuts, you know that?” Drag Strip asked. 

“Yeah, I know,” Wildrider said weakly. It wasn’t like he could forget when someone reminded him of his craziness every five minutes. 

“You’re  _ both _ nuttier ‘n a fruitcake. Now shut up, or I’ll beat some sense into the both of ya!” Motormaster snarled. 

“I’m not crazy! I can’t be, ‘cause I’m the best at everything! If anyone’s crazy, besides Wildrider, it’s Breakdown, not me!” Drag Strip exclaimed. Wildrider was about to say that Drag Strip’s belief that he was automatically the best was at least a little crazy, but before he could, Motormaster whacked him over the head, causing him to go cross-opticed, and then ripped Drag Strip’s spoiler off of his back, causing the race car to yowl in pain. Then Motormaster stomped over to Dead End and Breakdown.

“We are NOT gonna play nice with the Autobots, and I don’t care what you think about it! I’m the leader, an’ I say that we’re escaping an’ strikin’ out on our own as soon as we can!” 

“If we do that, we will be dead in a few hours, if we’re lucky. The minute we step outside of this base, our former allies will tear us to shreds. You may be powerful, but even you cannot defeat the might of the entire Decepticon army with no weaponry, and the rest of us wouldn’t stand a chance. I don’t expect my words to change your mind, though. After all, we’re doomed, and I always suspected that you would expedite the process by which we met our untimely ends,” Dead End said.

“P-p-please, boss. I don’t wanna die,” Breakdown added quietly. Motormaster scowled, grabbed Breakdown, and started beating him into the ground. Wildrider turned off his optics, having no desire to see Breaky get thrashed. Motormaster always beat him up the worst, maybe because hurting Breaky hurt Dead End more than hurting Dead End did. 

“What in the name of Vector Sigma is going on in here?” The voice sounded like it belonged to Doc Ratchet, so, in confusion, Wildrider turned his optics back on. When he did, he saw that Doc Ratchet, the Oreo Autobot, and Optimus Prime had entered the holding cell. Motormaster snarled and rushed at Optimus Prime, but before he reached the Autobot leader, the Oreo Autobot shot him and he collapsed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.


	7. Kindness? Does Not Compute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More confused Stunticons.

The Stunticons stared at Motormaster's unmoving body in a mixture of shock and relief. 

“Is he dead?” Drag Strip asked. 

“No. I set my weapon on stun, so he’s simply unconscious. He should wake up in about thirty minutes,” the Oreo Autobot replied as he put stasis cuffs on Motormaster. Doc Ratchet, meanwhile, rushed over to Breakdown and gently helped him to his feet. 

“Are you all right, Breakdown?” he asked. Breakdown took one look at Motormaster and promptly started freaking out. 

“Please don’t hurt me! I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die please don’t kill me please please please!” he babbled. 

“Easy, Breaky. That’s Doc Ratchet, remember? He’s not gonna hurt ya,” Wildrider said. 

“Wildrider’s right. I’m not going to harm you, and Motormaster is not dead. He’s just unconscious, and only because he immediately tried to attack us,” Doc Ratchet added. 

“Are you sure, Doctor Ratchet?” Breakdown asked. 

“Yes, I’m sure. What was Motormaster doing to you?” Doc Ratchet replied. Wildrider gave the Doc a funny look. He thought that what Motormaster had been doing was pretty obvious. 

“Beating him up. Duh,” Drag Strip said. 

“Yes, but why?” Doc Ratchet asked. 

“I messed up, so he had to p-p-punish me. That’s how things work,” Breakdown replied. Doc Ratchet looked shocked. 

“ _ What _ ? Who told you that?” he exclaimed. 

“M-M-Motormaster. He t-t-told me that I’m a useless, worthless coward, and so he has to punish me because I make him look bad,” Breakdown replied. 

“And you think that him brutalizing you for “making him look bad” is okay?” Doc Ratchet asked. He sounded angry, although Wildrider wasn’t sure why. Didn’t all leaders beat up their subordinates for failing? 

“Y-y-yes. He keeps me around when nobody else would, so of course he g-g-gets mad when I m-m-make him look bad,” Breakdown said. 

“What makes you think that no one else would want you?” Doc Ratchet asked.

“B-b-because Motormaster said so! He’s our leader and our oldest brother, so he’s always right,” Breakdown replied. Doc Ratchet shook his head sadly and started to patch up Breakdown’s new owies. Optimus Prime turned to Dead End. 

“Has this happened before?” he asked. 

“Of course. We are smaller than Motormaster and lack the strength to fight him off, so we are a convenient outlet for his rage. Breakdown gets the worst of it, but none of us have gone more than two days without a beating from our leader. I don’t know why you are so surprised, though. We were created to suffer,” Dead End replied. 

“And besides, don’t all bosses give their subordinates owies?” Wildrider asked. 

“Wildrider’s right. It ain’t fair that Motormaster gets to beat me up, ‘cause I’m the best at everything, but I ain’t in charge, so I get thrashed. Leaders always thrash their troops. It’s just how things work. What’s the matter with you morons that you don’t know that?” Drag Strip added. 

“Motormaster brutalizes all four of you? And on a regular basis?” Optimus Prime asked, sounding horrified. 

“Yeah. Why?” Drag Strip replied. A green-and-yellow striped tricycle rolled around the room, then disappeared.

“You think that Motormaster abusing you is _ normal _ ?” Doc Ratchet exclaimed. 

“What’s ‘abusing’?” Wildrider asked. 

“Abuse is when someone habitually harms you, through words or physical violence or both, in order to maintain control over your life and your behavior,” the Oreo Autobot explained. Wildrider frowned. That did sound a lot like what Motormaster did to them, but it didn’t explain why the Autobots were surprised by it. Didn’t all leaders use fear to keep their troops in line? 

“Well, maybe he is abusing us, but it ain’t anything special. Don’t all leaders beat up their subordinates?” Drag Strip asked. 

“Absolutely not! I don’t know what Megatron told you-or more likely didn’t tell you-but most leaders do not physically assault their subordinates to keep them in line, and they certainly don’t do it almost every day. What Motormaster has been doing to you is wrong,” Doc Ratchet replied. The Oreo Autobot nodded. 

“I am the second-in-command of the Autobot army, and I have never laid a hand on one of my subordinates,” he said. Wildrider stared at them in shock. There were leaders who  _ didn’t _ beat up their subordinates on a regular basis? And here he’d thought that that was just something made up by squishy TV shows! 

“Neither have I. The only time that I would ever use force against one of my teammates would be if they were threatening the lives of the rest of the unit,” Optimus Prime added. 

“Then whaddaya do if one of ‘em disobeys you?” Drag Strip asked suspiciously. 

“I give them extra work shifts. If it’s more severe, they might get time in the brig, but I never dole out physical punishments. If it’s something like treason, desertion, or killing another Autobot, the punishment would obviously be much harsher, but by that point, we’re discussing offenses that have to be tried by High Command before punishment is meted out,” the Oreo Autobot explained. Wildrider vaguely wondered if he was hallucinating what the Autobots were saying about physical punishment. The idea of not being physically punished for messing up sounded too good to be true. At this point, Dead End stepped forward. 

“While this discussion has been very enlightening, I would like to address a more pressing concern. What is our purpose here? What do we have to do for you in exchange for being protected from our former allies?” he asked. 

“W-w-we’re not good at much, b-b-but we can d-d-do grunt work,” Breakdown added nervously. 

“Whaddaya mean,  _ we’re  _ not good at much? I’m the best at everything!” Drag Strip demanded. Wildrider decided that Drag Strip was just as crazy as him. How could he claim to be the best at everything when he couldn’t read? He couldn’t be the best at something he couldn’t do, could he? Then a giant ice cream cone did a tap dance. It had to be a hallucination, because otherwise everyone would have reacted to it...wouldn’t’ve they? On second thought, he was definitely still crazier than Drag Strip. 

“Drag Strip is not, in fact, the best at everything. He believes that that is the case, but his beliefs do not correspond to reality any more than Wildrider’s hallucinations do. Like all of us, he is hopelessly glitched and will undoubtedly suffer an early and excruciatingly painful death. That being said, he  _ is _ easily the fastest of us in both robot and vehicular mode,” Dead End said. 

“D-D-Dead End’s probably the most useful of us, b-b-because he can read and write, and he’s good at organizing things,” Breakdown added quietly. 

“He is correct that I am the only one of us who is literate, and that I have good organizational skills. Not that it will matter in the end, when the universe is consumed by some malevolent entity, but it is something that may benefit you. I will also say that Breakdown, while exceedingly paranoid, fearful, and timid, is also loyal and obedient to a fault. We can handle his fits of paranoia, and when he is not in the throes of panic, he is quiet and reasonably efficient at carrying out tasks. He will not be an irritant, and neither will I,” Dead End said. 

“Hey! I’m not an irritant! I’m awesome! Nobody could be irritated by me!” Drag Strip exclaimed. Wildrider had no idea how Drag Strip could believe that other mechs weren’t irritated by his constant bragging when Motormaster beat him up for annoying him on a regular basis, but somehow he could. Then again, when  _ his _ glitch had last really acted up, he had fully believed that everyone around him had been replaced by drone versions of themselves who wanted to replace him, too, so it wasn’t like he really had room to talk. Wildrider shuddered. That had been a freaky experience, and the fact that Motormaster had tried to bring him out of it by beating the living daylights out of him hadn’t helped at all. 

“I hate being a crazy pineapple,” he muttered. 

“Wildrider can do stuff too, just so you know. He doesn’t do anything as well as me, of course, and he’s totally bonkers, but when he’s not having one of his….episodes...he can do grunt work just fine,” Drag Strip said. Wildrider glared at him. The Autobots already knew he was glitched in the head. Did Drag Strip really need to keep bringing it up?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! None of you have to _do_ anything to warrant our protection. We’ve taken you in to protect you from Megatron because that’s the right thing to do,” Doc Ratchet exclaimed. Wildrider stared at him. They weren’t going to have to do anything to earn being allowed to stay? 

“Indeed. If you should decide that you want to help us, that would of course be greatly appreciated, but we did not save you because we wanted you to serve us. If we had, we would not have rescued Motormaster,” the Oreo Autobot added. 

B-b-but why would you want to help  _ us _ ? W-w-we’re so glitched in the helms that our own c-c-creator threw us away,” Breakdown stammered. 

“Breakdown is right. Why would you wish to help us? Megatron deliberately programmed us to hate you; to hate everything you stand for. Our very sparks are meant to power nothing but violence and destruction, and we’ve caused harm to you and your human allies. If you do not wish to use us, then by all rights you should want to execute us, no matter how young we are. We will never be able to become something good; we were doomed to create-and be-nothing but wreckage from the moment we came online,” Dead End said.

“Yeah. I may be the greatest thing in the universe, but I ain’t a goody-good like you Autobots, and I’m never gonna be one, so you guys should be too stupid to want me around,” Drag Strip added. Wildrider glared at his brothers. Sure, he didn’t get it, either, but why were they complaining about it? Someone finally seemed to care about them, and even if it didn’t last, he was going to take it for as long as he could get it! 

“And you three say I’M the crazy one! Who cares why they want to help us? They  _ want to help us _ ! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to us! It’s even better than the demolition derbies that we’re probably not gonna get to have anymore. I guess they’re kinda dangerous for squishies,” he exclaimed. With that, he walked over to Doc Ratchet and hugged him. The Doc returned the hug, and Wildrider grinned. 

“Just for the record, this is the last time you get to hug me,” Doc Ratchet said. 

“Okay, Doc. Thanks for wanting us,” he replied. A giant pizza landed on the Oreo Autobot’s head, and then Breakdown nervously stepped forward. 

“D-d-do you r-r-really want to help us?” he asked. 

“Yes, Breakdown. We do,” Optimus Prime replied, and Breakdown actually gave a small smile. Wildrider grinned again. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Breakdown smile before. 

“And we’re starting by separating you from Motormaster. Unless he learns how to treat you better, you won’t have to spend time with him anymore,” Doc Ratchet added. Wildrider's grin got wider. Maybe being captured by the Autobots wasn't such a bad thing after all! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wildrider's last psychotic episode involved the capgras delusion, or the belief that the people around you have been replaced by false copies of themselves.  
> https://www.healthline.com/health/capgras-syndrome#:~:text=Capgras%20syndrome%20is%20a%20psychological,been%20replaced%20by%20an%20imposter.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. More chapters are forthcoming, hopefully soon.


	8. Strange Bedfellows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots decide where to keep their new Stunticon collection.

Drag Strip put his hands on his hips and grinned smugly. 

“Since you aren’t kicking us out-because of my awesomeness, no doubt-where are we gonna be staying?” Drag Strip asked. The Oreo Autobot and Optimus Prime exchanged a glance. 

“He poses an interesting question, Prime. When we found the Stunticons, we assumed that we were capturing enemy prisoners, not offering sanctuary to neutrals. Now that we know they’ve been expelled from the Decepticon ranks, we’re obviously not going to put them back in the brig-not least because that’s exactly where the Decepticons would send potential assassins-but neither do we have quarters prepared for them,” the Oreo Autobot said. 

“Prowl’s right. When the Protectobots arrived on Earth, they took the last available quarters on the Ark,” Doc Ratchet said. 

“Could more be constructed?” Optimus Prime asked. 

“Of course. We have at least two different empty storage rooms that could be converted into recharging quarters fairly easily, but it would take time, and since we’ve already established that it is neither logical nor fair to keep them in the brig, we’d need someplace for them to stay in the interval,” the Oreo Autobot replied. 

“In that case, it seems as though the best solution would be for each of them to share quarters with one of our soldiers,” Optimus said. Doc Ratchet nodded. 

“I’d agree, Optimus, but we’d better think carefully about who we put them with. I have enough work as it is. I don’t want to have to deal with the fallout of a fight between Sunstreaker and Drag Strip or something on top of it.” 

“You’re right, Ratchet. As you said, the twins should obviously be counted out. They’d be far too likely to respond with hostility towards the Stunticons, and even if they didn’t, I don’t want to think about what would happen if Sideswipe tried to play one of his pranks on Breakdown- or use Wildrider as a pawn in one of them. And they're hardly the only Autobots who wouldn't handle having a Stunticon share a room with them well,” Optimus Prime agreed. Wildrider thought that was probably smart. Skywarp had used the fact that he was a crazy pineapple to trick him into doing stupid stuff in the past, and when the Seeker had pranked Breaky, he’d hidden under his recharging center for a week, utterly convinced that he was going to be killed. He didn’t want a repeat of any of that. A large green sphere blinked in and out of existence, and Wildrider shook his head. Stupid hallucinations. 

“Any suggestions on who we should put them with, Prowl?” Doc Ratchet asked. Prowl nodded. 

“Naturally. I have run all the potential pairings through my computation matrix, and I believe I have come up with suitable matches for all of the Stunticons but Motormaster. Wildrider should be roomed with Jazz. He is skilled at adapting to unusual circumstances, so nothing that Wildrider’s glitch might come up with would phase him. Put Drag Strip with Hound. Hound is strong enough to ward off any attacks from him, and he will not challenge Drag Strip’s delusions of superiority in a way that will lead to hostility. Breakdown should be roomed with Inferno. He’s friendly, generally non-threatening, and is already used to coping with fits of paranoia due to his partnership with Red Alert. Dead End will stay with Trailbreaker. His good nature might help pull Dead End out of his own morbid thoughts, and he’s busy enough that Dead End will still have some time to himself,” he said. 

“Brilliant as usual, Prowl,” Optimus Prime replied. 

“Thank you, sir. As for Motormaster....” Prowl began. 

“Motormaster will be rooming with me,” Optimus Prime announced. Wildrider stared at him in shock and wondered if maybe the glitch that made him such a crazy pineapple had started affecting Optimus Prime, too. There was no other explanation for why he would do something as crazy as volunteer to share his quarters with Motormaster! 

“Absolutely not! I wouldn’t let Omega Supreme share quarters with that brute, let alone you!” Doc Ratchet exclaimed. 

“Your doctor’s right, Prime. Motormaster hates your guts! If you let him into your quarters, he’ll probably just murder you while you’re recharging,” Drag Strip said.

“I concur. Unless you wish to expedite your inevitable demise, you should keep our dear leader as far away from you as possible,” Dead End added. A large orange square appeared, then disappeared when Wildrider tried to get a good look at it to determine if it was really there. 

“I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I do not believe that I have anything to fear from Motormaster. I am as strong as he is, if not stronger, and I have several more millennia of battle experience than he does. And as for him killing me in recharge…that is highly unlikely. Having the responsibility of two worlds resting on my shoulders makes me rather prone to insomnia, and I have been attacked in my quarters enough times over the course of this war that I do not think it is likely that I would be caught off-guard from an attack by a newbuilt, no matter how violent and cruel he may be. Additionally, there are more security cameras near my quarters than anywhere else in the base except the armory. Having Motormaster in my quarters is a way to ensure that he doesn’t attempt to attack anyone else during the night,” Optimus Prime said. 

“Locking him in the brig would accomplish the same thing without inconveniencing you, sir. Unlike the other Stunticons, Motormaster has been overtly hostile towards us. What’s more, we know that he is cruel and abusive towards others, and he clearly views us as his enemies. We have cause to treat him as a hostile,” Prowl replied. Optimus Prime sighed.

“You’re right...but Prowl, he’s not even two Earth years old,” he said. 

“And already a hardened warrior. He’s not exactly a typical sparkling,” Doc Ratchet pointed out. Even though Wildrider still didn’t really understand what a “sparkling” was, he believed what the Doc said. None of the Stunticons were a typical anything.

“He was never given the opportunity to be anything  _ but  _ a warrior, Ratchet. Motormaster may have been Megatron’s most apt pupil, but he didn’t have any more choice about it than his brothers did. I won’t let him hurt his brothers or anyone else, but I have to at least give him the choice to be something other than the monster Megatron taught him to be. If he rejects it, I will put him in the brig, but I want him to be able to make that decision for himself before I imprison him for it,” Optimus replied. A banana appeared, peeled itself, and then flew out of the room, and Wildrider giggled. Drag Strip shot him an odd look, but before Wildrider could work out why, he was interrupted by an unexpected voice. 

“An’ why would I want to be anything other than what Megatron built me to be?” Either Wildrider was hallucinating, or Motormaster had woken up, and since Prowl and Doc Ratchet were both staring in shock, Wildrider was pretty sure it was the second option. 

“Because he built you to be his  _ tool _ , Motormaster. Everything else he built you to be was solely to make you a more effective one, and when he decided that you weren’t working, he disposed of you,” Optimus Prime replied. Motormaster swore at him. 

“You’re lying! This is just a test. As soon as we prove we’re capable of achieving stuff on our own and make up for our failures, he’ll take me back,” he said. 

“Do you really believe that?” Optimus Prime asked gently. Motormaster swore loudly and then looked away from Optimus. 

“No. Megatron never re-uses broken weapons,” he muttered. Wildrider had never seen him look so defeated, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Motormaster was going to do now. If he wasn’t Megatron’s soldier or their leader anymore, then what _was_ he? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. More chapters will be forthcoming (hopefully soon).


	9. Him Wildrider Meet Robot Dinosaurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case the title didn't give it away, the Dinobots are in this chapter.

“Drag Strip, Breakdown, Dead End, come with me. I’ll show you to your temporary quarters. Wildrider, stay here. I’ve commed Jazz, and he will be coming to pick you up momentarily. Optimus Prime, I’ll trust you to deal with Motormaster,” Prowl said. Optimus Prime nodded. 

“Y-y-you’re  _ separating _ us?” Breakdown asked, sounding terrified. 

“Only temporarily, and only for the purposes of housing you. You can still spend time with one another if you so desire,” Prowl replied softy. Breakdown just whimpered. 

“Breakdown, there is no point in raising a fuss. The Autobots now have control over our futures, no matter how dim those futures may be, so our best chance of postponing our demise is to do as they say,” Dead End said. Breakdown promptly fell silent, and Doc Ratchet groaned. 

“Clearly, the “you don’t have to earn being treated like sentient mechs” lesson hasn’t sunk in yet,” he muttered as Prowl led Wildrider’s teammates out of the holding cell. 

“So, who am I rooming with, again? He can’t be near as awesome as me,” Wildrider heard Drag Strip ask as they vanished down the hall. A Slinky appeared, changed into an accordion, and then disappeared as Optimus Prime knelt down next to Motormaster. 

“Motormaster, you were created as a Decepticon, and have never known anything besides life as Megatron’s tool. I am not Megatron. If you wish to continue fighting us, I will not force you to work with us. Should you make that decision, though, I will have to put you in the brig. I cannot allow you to endanger my teammates or your brothers. However, you have another choice. If you give me permission to teach you, I can show you how to live a life as something other than Megatron’s weapon,” he said. 

“What, a life as _your_ weapon?” Motormaster asked. Much to Wildrider’s surprise, Motormaster sounded more like Dead End than like himself; tired and sad instead of loud and mean and angry. 

“No. Motormaster, we probably will never see optic-to-optic on many things, but I promise you this: I will never use you as a tool to further my own ends. No one deserves to be treated like they’re disposable,” Optimus Prime replied. Motormaster looked confused, and Wildrider couldn’t blame him. Except for Soundwave, all Decepticons were ultimately disposable, and the only reason that Soundwave wasn’t disposable was because Megatron would never run out of uses for him. The idea of an army where the leader didn’t see all of his troops as disposable tools was as bizarre to him as it was to his ex-boss, but since that idea was real, and the reason that Motormaster was his ex-boss in the first place, Wildrider wasn’t about to complain about it. 

“Megatron-my  _ creator _ -used me until he decided I was broke, an’ then got rid of me. An’ I was always loyal to him! But you-I tried ta  _ kill _ ya! If you ain’t gonna use me, then why not just put me in the brig? I ain’t exactly Autobot material,” Motormaster asked. 

“Because you aren’t just a means to an end. Using you as a tool, or locking you up without giving you a chance to become something more than Megatron’s weapon, would be treating you as something other than a sentient being,” Optimus Prime replied.  A large ice cream cone melted into one of the walls. 

“An’ what if I can’t be somethin’ other than Megatron’s weapon?” Motormaster asked. 

“You certainly  _ can _ . What you have to decide is whether or not you  _ will _ ,” Doc Ratchet said. 

“Ratchet is correct. While I fully believe that you aren’t just a weapon, that won’t mean anything unless you believe it, too. So, Motormaster, what do you say? Are you willing to work with us?” Optimus Prime asked. 

“If you’re crazy enough to work with me, sure. What else have I got to lose?” Motormaster replied.  Wildrider thought that was a bit of a dumb question. There was a lot of stuff Motormaster could lose. 

“You could lose your voice box. Or your head. Or your arms. Or your optics. Actually, there’s a lot of stuff you could still lose, boss,” Wildrider said. Doc Ratchet snorted. 

“Shut up, moron! I wasn’t asking you!” Motormaster snarled. Now he sounded like himself again. Wildrider decided that he liked Dead End-Motormaster better than regular Motormaster.

“Motormaster, I don’t expect you to be able to change your habits overnight, but I will require you to not insult-or worse, attack-your brothers. Leave Wildrider alone,” Optimus Prime said sternly. Motormaster scowled, but, much to Wildrider’s surprise, he actually backed off rather than giving Wildrider owies. 

“Whatever. Can we leave now?” Motormaster asked. 

“I think that would probably be a good idea. Ratchet, can you handle Wildrider until Jazz gets here?” Optimus Prime said. 

“If I can handle the twins, I think I can handle one hyperactive Ferrari for a few minutes,” Doc Ratchet replied. With that, Optimus Prime and Motormaster left the holding cell. Then a robot dinosaur barrelled into the room. Wildrider shook his head, hoping the hallucination would go away, but instead, it spoke. 

“Me Grimlock want rust sticks for snack! You Ratchet give me Grimlock snack now!” Much to Wildrider’s surprise, Doc Ratchet reacted. The robot dinosaur  _ wasn’t  _ a hallucination? How was that possible? 

“Grimlock? What are _ you _ doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be doing something with Wheeljack?” 

“Me Grimlock was doing something with him Wheeljack, but then me Grimlock got hungry. When me Grimlock told him Wheeljack that, him Wheeljack told me Grimlock that you Ratchet had snacks, so me Grimlock left to find you Ratchet,” the robot dinosaur replied. Doc Ratchet groaned. 

“Well, “him Wheeljack” was wrong. I am fresh out of rust sticks,” Doc Ratchet replied. 

“What’s a rust stick?” Wildrider asked. The robot dinosaur turned to look at him, and then growled. 

“Him  _ Decepticon _ ! You Ratchet get back! Me Grimlock crush him for you!” he exclaimed. 

“Grimlock, no! He’s not a Decepticon anymore!” Doc Ratchet said. The robot dinosaur paused in his tracks. 

“What you Ratchet mean?” he asked. 

“I mean that he’s a friend now...or at least, not an enemy,” Doc Ratchet replied. At this, the robot dinosaur transformed into a regular robot...one that was even bigger than Motormaster!

“Me Grimlock. What your name?” he asked. 

“Wildrider. You’re really big.” 

“That because me Grimlock am strongest warrior!” 

“I’m a pineapple. A very crazy pineapple,” Wildrider replied. Suddenly, Grimlock’s optic band gleamed. 

“Me Grimlock remember seeing you Wildrider on battlefield once now! You Wildrider drove right at him Sunstreaker and him Ironhide and not slow down once. You Wildrider good fighter; very brave. If you not enemy now, then me Grimlock make you Wildrider honorary Dinobot,” he said. Suddenly, four more robot dinosaurs entered the holding cell. 

“Where Leader Grimlock...go? Him Wheeljack...was going to take... us Dinobots... fishing!” The question came from the biggest of the dinosaurs, one with a long yellow neck. 

“Me Grimlock went to get snacks...but found something much betterer,” Grimlock replied. It took Wildrider a few seconds to realize that Grimlock was talking about him. 

“What you find?” another robot dinosaur asked. This one had funny-looking plates on his back. 

“Me Grimlock find him Wildrider. Him Wildrider used to be a Decepticon, but him Ratchet says that him Wildrider is our ally now. Him Wildrider is one we saw drive straight at him Sunstreaker and him Ironhide. Him Wildrider a brave warrior, so me Grimlock make him Wildrider an honorary Dinobot,” Grimlock replied. 

“Me Slag say that you Grimlock have blown out head circuits! Us Dinobots no want a Decepticon to be honorary Dinobot!” This came from a robot dinosaur with three spikes. Wildrider grinned. He was a pineapple, too! 

“Didn’t you Slag hear? Him Wildrider not Decepticon no more!” 

“Me Slag not care! Us Dinobots no need more Dinobots!” 

“Me Grimlock am leader! You Slag shut up and stop being jerk or else!” Much to Wildrider’s surprise, though, Grimlock didn’t hit the other pineapple. “Slag” glared at him, but stopped arguing. 

“What you, Sludge, you, Snarl, and you, Swoop, think about him Wildrider?” Grimlock asked. 

“Me...Sludge...follow strongest leader. Always. If you...Grimlock...say him...Wildrider honorary Dinobot….then him Wildrider...is Dinobot,” the yellow-necked dinosaur replied. 

“Me Snarl not care. Him Wildrider good fighter, so makes no difference to me Snarl. If him Wildrider being honorary Dinobot makes you Grimlock happy, him Wildrider can be honorary Dinobot,” the robot dinosaur with the plated back said. 

“Me Swoop say we should give him Wildrider a chance. Me Swoop not know much about him Wildrider, but him Wildrider not very big. If him Wildrider isn’t trustworthy, us Dinobots will be too tough for him to hurt,” said a flying dinosaur-bird-robot-thing. 

“Good. Then us Dinobots have decided. You Wildrider am now Dinobot. You Wildrider; this him Swoop, him Sludge, him Snarl, and him Slag,” Grimlock replied. 

“Uh, hi. Are...are you sure you wanna make me an honorary Dinobot? I’m crazy,” Wildrider said. 

“You also good warrior. It not matter if you Wildrider is crazy-you Wildrider is strong like us Dinobots,” Grimlock replied. 

“Yes. If you Wildrider be friend to us Dinobots, us Dinobots not care if you Wildrider think that sky is orange,” Swoop added. Wildrider grinned. Wait until his brothers heard about this! 

“Us Dinobots take him Wildrider to quarters with us, Ratchet,” Grimlock said. 

“Sorry I’m late, everybody. You ready to move into my place, Wildrider?” The voice came from the black-and-white Autobot with the blue visor from earlier. All five Dinobots glared at the newcomer. 

“Jazz, I’m afraid you might have some competition,” Doc Ratchet said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. More chapters will be forthcoming, hopefully soon.


	10. Surprise Squishies!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stunticons are starting to adjust to the Autobots. The worst is over...right?

A few days later, Wildrider had fully settled into the Dinobots’ quarters, and was thoroughly enjoying himself. Since the Dinobots themselves recharged in one large pile in their common room, he had the run of the individual rooms and all five recharging centers, all of which were much bigger than the one he had had at Decepticon HQ. It was great! What was even better was that the Dinobots didn’t seem nearly as bothered by his craziness as Drag Strip and Motormaster had been. In fact, he was enjoying his time with them so much that he was actually surprised when Prowl had told him that his brothers wanted to see him. He had almost forgotten that they were at Autobot HQ too. However, he did like his brothers, too, so he eagerly agreed to go see them. 

“Us Dinobots go with you!” Grimlock exclaimed. A frog bounced off of his head and then disappeared, and Wildrider frowned. He didn’t want to disappoint his new friends, but he knew exactly what would happen if Breakdown saw the Dinobots, and it wouldn’t be good. 

“I wish you guys could come, but Breakdown-that’s one of my brothers-will totally freak if he sees you. He’s really jumpy. And also made of blueberry ice cream. So you should probably stay here,” Wildrider replied. Swoop nodded.

“That make sense. Lots of mechs scared of us Dinobots at first.” Slag scowled.

“Him Breakdown sound like big wimp. Me Slag say that you Wildrider should beat him up for being weakling,” he said. Wildrider frowned at Slag. He reminded him of Motormaster, and he didn’t like that. 

“It’s not Breaky’s fault. He’s glitched in the head just like me,” he said. 

“But you Wildrider not wimp,” Snarl replied quietly.

“Well, no, but...that’s not what I meant!” Wildrider exclaimed helplessly. He didn’t know how to explain it. Luckily for him, Prowl stepped in. 

“Breakdown has a programming glitch that’s a lot like Red Alert’s. He can’t help being afraid of you any more than Red Alert can help being afraid that his security might fail or Wildrider can help seeing things that aren’t really there. If you follow Wildrider, you’ll scare Breakdown so badly that his glitch might cause him to shut down,” he said. 

“Oh. That make sense. In that case, me Grimlock say us Dinobots stay here. But you Wildrider be sure to tell them brothers that us Dinobots say hi,” Grimlock replied. 

“I will! Bye, guys!” Wildrider exclaimed. With that, he followed Prowl into the holding cell from the day of their arrival. Drag Strip, Breaky, and Dead End were already there, and, much to his surprise, Motormaster was actually there, too. Wildrider wasn’t sure what to think about that. Motormaster was technically his brother, too, but he was mean and gave Wildrider owies, so Wildrider didn’t know how much he wanted to talk to him. 

“Wildrider, could you please tell Breakdown that the Autobots haven’t reprogrammed you since he last saw you? He won’t stop worrying about it, and I want him to shut up about it already!” Drag Strip exclaimed. Breakdown whimpered. 

“I j-j-just want to be s-s-sure,” he said. Wildrider smiled and patted Breaky’s hand. 

“Don’t worry, Breaky. Nobody’s messed with my head. My CPU’s busted, but it’s not any more busted than it was when I got here,” he said. Breakdown relaxed fractionally. 

“Good,” he said. 

“I saw a frog today. It was on Grimlock’s head,” Wildrider replied. Drag Strip and Dead End gave him an odd look, and Wildrider sighed. It had been a hallucination. 

“Who’s Grimlock? Were you not supposed to be rooming with Jazz?” Dead End asked. 

“Maybe it’s the name of one of the voices in his head,” Drag Strip said. Wildrider glared at him. He did not name the voices in his head! 

“No! Grimlock’s an Autobot who turns into a dinosaur,” he replied. Dead End sighed, and Drag Strip laughed. 

“A robot dinosaur? That’s even more ridiculous than an imaginary frog!” he exclaimed. 

“Actually, Grimlock is quite real. He’s the leader of the Dinobots, an Autobot unit that transforms into Earthen dinosaurs,” Prowl said. Wildrider had no idea why he was still there, but he was glad that the Autobot was backing his story up so his brothers didn’t think he’d gone even crazier than usual. Breakdown whimpered.

“This “Grimlock” is real? Intriguing...though, given what Wildrider has told us about him, he is most likely a portent of our forthcoming doom,” Dead End replied. 

“I totally knew that! I was just, uh, testing Wildrider!” Drag Strip said. Wildrider wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure that Drag Strip had not, in fact, known who Grimlock was until Prowl had told him. 

“You don’t need to worry about Grimlock dooming us, Dead End. He’s my friend,” Wildrider said. Dead End didn’t look convinced. 

“Whatever you say. It will not matter in the end, when we all meet our inevitable fate,” he replied. 

“H-h-how have you all been? A-a-are your roommates hurting you? Inferno has been pretty n-n-nice so far. The walls are still s-s-staring at me, but Inferno hasn’t been. T-t-that’s more than I was h-h-hoping for,” Breakdown asked. 

“Trailbreaker is hopelessly, foolishly optimistic, but I doubt he means me ill. He has also proven to be a surprisingly thoughtful literary critic and has in no way been an irritant. Of course, it’s far too good to last, but I plan to enjoy the peace and quiet I have had until it inevitably vanishes and I am plunged back into misery and despair,” Dead End replied. 

“Hound’s okay. He’s not nearly as awesome as me, of course, but he listens to me talk about how awesome I am, doesn’t try to challenge my awesomeness, and is way slower than me. I don’t get all the nature junk he talks about, and I don’t know what he sees in squishies, but he ain’t too bad. Definitely better than anyone at Decepticon HQ would’ve been,” Drag Strip said. 

“I’m with the Dinobots! I was supposed to be with Jazz, but they found me first and made me an honorary Dinobot, so now I’m rooming with them. Don’t worry, I’m still a Stunticon, but now I have friends that turn into dinosaurs and like destroying stuff as much as I do. And that’s awesome! ” Wildrider exclaimed. 

“Sweet! We can invite them on our next demolition derby!” Drag Strip said. Breakdown whimpered again, probably scared of the idea of doing anything with robot dinosaurs, and Dead End sighed and shook his head. 

“Not that I have ever been overly invested in mindlessly smashing Earth vehicles, but I doubt very much that we will be able to hold any more demolition derbies. They endanger the flesh creatures whom the Autobots are inordinately fond of,” he replied. 

“I think we can still have them, Dead End. The Dinobots say they get to destroy stuff all the time. The Autobots just take them someplace where no squishes’ll get squished and let them smash stuff. So we could totally still have our demolition derbies-just not in places where the squishies are,” Wildrider said.  Drag Strip beamed, and then Wildrider noticed something weird. Well, two somethings, actually. The first was that there was a large gummy bear sitting on Dead End’s shoulder, and the second was that Motormaster was being really quiet.  Motormaster was never quiet for this long unless he was unconscious, which he wasn’t. 

“You okay, boss?” Wildrider asked. He knew that Motormaster wasn’t really his boss anymore, but he didn’t know what else to call him.  Motormaster grunted, which wasn't much of a response. 

“Boss?” Wildrider repeated. Motormaster just shook his head, looking lost. 

“I dunno, Wildrider. I don’t understand Prime. I just don’t understand him,” he muttered. Before Wildrider could ask Motormaster anything else, he was cut off by a voice.

“What are the Stunticons doing here?” The voice came from the small, brown-haired squishy that hung out with the Autobots, and he and the blonde, female human standing next to him both looked more than a little freaked out.  Breakdown, for his part, was equally terrified, and let out a loud shriek before cowering behind Dead End. Wildrider sighed. He might be crazy, but even he knew that this was going to be awkward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.


	11. Drag Strip Talks TV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stunticons meet Spike and Carly.

“The Stunticons are here because Megatron expelled them from the Decepticon ranks, having decided that their value as weapons had ended. This made them a target for their former allies, and we captured them while they were trying to escape from the Combaticons. Upon learning that they were no longer Decepticons, Optimus Prime decided to offer them sanctuary here, in the hopes that we might be able to show them that the Decepticon way of life is not the only one,” Prowl explained. The two squishies stared at him in shock, and Breakdown whimpered. 

“Tell your squishies to stop staring at me!” he wailed. 

“But the Stunticons are crazy!” the brown-haired squishy exclaimed. 

“Yep!” Wildrider replied. He didn’t know why the squishy was bringing that up, but it was true. 

“Spike!” the female squishy exclaimed, glaring at the brown-haired one. 

“What?” 

“Stop insulting the giant robots who used to be Decepticons!” 

“It’s not really an insult when it is entirely accurate,” Dead End said morosely. Breakdown whimpered and continued in his apparent attempt to weld himself to Dead End’s side. 

“The brown-haired squishy is right. I’m a very crazy pineapple,” Wildrider added.   
“A...pineapple?” the female squishy asked. 

“Yeah. ‘Cause I have spikes, and pineapples have spikes,” Wildrider explained. 

“I …. see,” the female squishy said. Wildrider was used to her tone. Dead End used it every time he said something weird. 

“While the Stunticons do indeed have some severe processor glitches, neither that nor the fact that they were created to be Decepticons was within their control. Optimus Prime believes that, given the right guidance, that they can learn to cope with their glitches and be something other than weapons for Megatron. Remember, they’re only two Earth years old. We certainly will not allow them to harm humans, but if they do not attempt to attack you or the members of the Ark crew, it would be unfair to treat them as prisoners of war now that they are no longer Decepticons,” Prowl said. The two squishies exchanged a glance. 

“Wow. I keep forgetting that they’re barely any older than the Aerialbots,” the brown-haired squishy said. Then a xylophone appeared in front of him. 

“Barely any older? We’re six hours older! That’s a lot!” Drag Strip exclaimed.

“No, it is not. Especially in comparison to our exceedingly long lifespans, six hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds is a miniscule amount of time,” Dead End said. 

“Yeah, and you ain’t that much older than me, either!” Wildrider added. Drag Strip insisted that the three seconds between when he had come online and when Wildrider had come online were somehow very important, and Wildrider thought that was stupid. 

“I am too!” 

“Are not!” 

“Am too!” 

“Are not!” 

“Am too!” 

“Are not!”   
“Am too!” At this point, Dead End interjected. 

“Drag Stip, I am approximately seven seconds older than you. Does that make me significantly older than you?” he asked. 

“No. But I’m still a lot older than Wildrider, because I’m awesome, and you and Wildrider aren’t,” Drag Strip replied. 

“That makes no sense. Then again, there really is no purpose in my continuing to try to make you see reason-not least because we are all ultimately doomed,” Dead End said. 

“You know, Spike, in addition to only being a few hours older than the Aerialbots, they’re also more than ten years younger than we are. It’s weird to think about, since they’re so much larger than we are, but they, the Dinobots, and the Aerialbots aren’t much older than toddlers. Obviously, they’re a lot more sophisticated than human toddlers, but still, I have to wonder how emotionally mature they can really be,” the female squishy remarked. 

“What’s a toddler?” Wildrider asked. 

“A very young human,” the female squishy replied. 

“From what I understand, they are similar to young sparklings,” Prowl added. 

“I thought young squishies were called kids,” Drag Strip said. 

“Well, they are, but “toddler” is a more specific term used to describe children who are just learning to walk and talk,” the female squishy replied. 

“How come you know that young humans are sometimes called kids?” the “Spike”-squishy asked. 

“I know a lot of stuff about squishies, ‘cause I’m a genius and we watch a lot of squishy TV,” Drag Strip replied. The two squishies exchanged a surprised glance. 

“ _ You  _ watch human TV?” ‘Spike’ asked. 

“Sadly, yes. Shortly after our creation, it became apparent that Drag Strip and Wildrider were almost totally incapable of entertaining themselves, and as such, they were an extreme nuisance whenever we were off-duty. To keep them out of everyone else’s plating, Megatron had Long Haul steal a wide-screen television set, which he then put in our quarters so that they would have something to do when not out driving or actively on a mission. I never took to the idiotic contraption, but Wildrider and Drag Strip were enamored with it, and even Motormaster quickly came to appreciate it upon learning of the action and horror genres-the less plot, the better. He forced us all to watch whenever he did. As a result, all five of us have spent a good deal of time watching human television,” Dead End explained. 

“What shows do you watch?” ‘Spike’ asked. 

“Depends on who you’re talkin’ about. Wildrider likes stupid shows like  _ The Brady Bunch  _ and  _ Little House on the Prarie  _ and  _ Scooby-Doo  _ and  _ Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles  _ and  _ Gilligan’s Island  _ and  _ Happy Days  _ and junk like that- he watches a lot of cartoons and reruns-but he’ll really watch just about anything. Motormaster likes any show where things explode and there’s lots of blood and guts, and he was super mad when that A-Team show stopped airing even though he always said not enough squishies died in it. I like watching NASCAR and Formula One racing and sports and stuff, even though I’m better than any other racer or sports player, and I also like  _ MacGyver  _ and cop shows like  _ Miami Vice _ -especially when they have car chases. Dead End says he thinks all television shows are stupid, but he’s totally lying, ‘cause Wildrider and Breakdown and I have caught him watching  _ As the Kitchen Sinks _ seven times. Breakdown’s a wuss, so the only show he ever actually wants to watch is  _ Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.  _ Every other show he’s seen has made him either nervous or panicky. He will watch other stuff, because he never argues with anyone, but he doesn’t like any other show,” Drag Strip explained. Wildrider frowned. The shows he liked were not junk! 

“You watch  _ MacGyver _ ?” ‘Spike’ asked.

“Yeah,” Drag Strip replied. 

“I’ve been super busy with job applications, so I’ve missed the last few episodes. Do you know what happened?” ‘Spike’ asked. 

“Of course I do!” Drag Strip exclaimed. With that, he and ‘Spike’ launched into a detailed conversation about the show. Wildrider felt relieved. Maybe dealing with the squishies wouldn’t be quite as hard as he had thought….although he doubted that Breakdown was going to be hanging out with them any time soon. Then he noticed something weird. Motormaster hated squishies because Megatron did. Why wasn’t he yelling at them for talking to squishies? Something was clearly really wrong with his (ex)-boss, and Wildrider decided that he was going to find out what...after he asked the female squishy to explain what the “preserves” that the squishies were always making in  _ Little House on the Prairie  _ were, that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. 
> 
> If I made any mistakes with the shows (I was trying to stick to shows that had aired by the late 1980s), please tell me.


	12. Motormaster's Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there will be intense feels in this chapter.

Four days later, Wildrider had learned the names of all the squishies that hung out with the Autobots, smashed things with Drag Strip and the Dinobots, and accidentally freaked out the Autobots’ Security Director, the red one who looked and acted a lot like Breakdown, when he had hallucinated a purple Laserbeak and announced this fact while the Security Director was in audio receptor-shot. Oops. He had not, however, come any closer to figuring out why Motormaster had been acting so weirdly since he had arrived at Autobot HQ. Part of it was because Wildrider was easily distracted by fun things and the weird stuff his CPU kept coming up with, but most of it was because Motormaster seemed to be trying really hard to avoid all of the other Stunticons. Wildrider had no idea why. Motormaster never hid from anyone, so why was he starting now? 

“Are you Wildrider busy? Him Grimlock sent me Swoop to ask you Wildrider if you wanted to go fishing with him Wheeljack and us Dinobots, ” Swoop asked suddenly, surprising Wildrider. 

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. 

“Sorry. Me Swoop not mean to surprise you. What you Wildrider doing?” Swoop replied. 

“I’m trying to figure out why Motormaster has been acting weird lately,” Wildrider said. Swoop looked at him curiously, and then a baseball fell out of the sky, turned into a grape, and disappeared into Swoop’s mouth. 

“Why you Wildrider think him Motormaster acting weird?” Swoop asked. 

“‘Cause he’s been hiding from me and my brothers and being really quiet, and he’s usually really loud and always shouting at us,” Wildrider replied. 

“That does sound weird. Maybe him Motormaster have computer virus?” 

“Could be! But I don’t know,” Wildrider replied. He was a crazy pineapple, after all. Understanding things wasn’t something he was good at, even when he wished it was. 

“Maybe us Dinobots can help you Wildrider figure out what is wrong with him Motormaster,” Swoop said. Wildrider grinned. 

“You really sure you want to?”

“Of course. You honorary Dinobot. Us Dinobots always help other Dinobots,” Swoop replied. Before they could leave to find the other Dinobots, however, Drag Strip, Dead End, and Breakdown walked up to them. 

“Oh, hi, guys! What’s up?” Wildrider asked. 

“Wildrider, have you noticed that Motormaster has been acting a tad peculiar lately?” Dead End asked. Drag Strip laughed. 

“C’mon, this is  _ Wildrider  _ we’re talkin’ about. He’s too crazy to notice much of anything!” Drag Strip exclaimed. Wildrider glared at him. 

“I have too noticed that he’s been acting weird! He’s been really quiet, he seems like he’s been hiding from us, and once I saw him in a pink bathrobe,” Wildrider said. His brothers looked at him oddly. 

“Okay, that last one may have been a hallucination, now that I think about it. But I still know he’s not acting normal. I’m a crazy pineapple, but that doesn’t make me stupid!” 

“Me Swoop think maybe him Motormaster is acting weird because of computer virus,” Swoop suggested. Breakdown whimpered. 

“No, Motormaster has had a computer virus once before. If anything, it only made him more belligerent. The change in his behavior must stem from something else,” Dead End said. Wildrider frowned. He’d forgotten about Motormaster catching that computer virus while Megatron was off building the Giant Purple Griffin (Wildrider had named it “Beak”). That had not been fun, not least because his glitch had been really acting up, and convincing him that he was infected with some sort of parasite, at the same time. 

“Maybe he’s sulking because he ain’t in charge no more?” Drag Strip suggested. 

“Motormaster does not sulk. That’s what  _ you _ do, my dear Drag Strip. Motormaster simply rages and brutalizes anyone within range. He’s not angry. If he was, we would know,” Dead End replied. 

“I don’t sulk. I’m too awesome for that,” Drag Strip muttered.

“Maybe him Motormaster is sad?” Swoop asked. Wildrider and Drag Strip both started laughing, and even Breakdown let out a giggle. Motormaster being sad? That idea was just nuts...and Wildrider would know. 

“What so funny?” 

“Motormaster’s never sad, moron. He has exactly two emotions: angry….and really angry,” Drag Strip replied. 

“So him Motormaster like him Slag?”

“Yep!” Wildrider replied. Both Motormaster and Slag never seemed to be happy, sad, or anything other than loud and angry….at least, until Motormaster had started acting all weird. Huh. Motormaster had seemed like Dead End on the first day they’d arrived at Autobot HQ. Maybe Swoop’s idea wasn’t quite as crazy as he had thought after all.

“On the contrary, my dear Drag Strip, I think….your name is Swoop, is it not?” 

“Yes. Me Swoop!” 

“I think that Swoop’s idea has merit. While it is undoubtedly true that Motormaster does not have a habit of displaying any emotion other than anger, it does not therefore follow that he is incapable of doing so, and, given that everything he thought he knew about himself, the Autobots, the Decepticons, and us is currently being called into question, it would not be altogether surprising if he is experiencing some form of stress or despair,” Dead End said. 

“B-b-but Motormaster c-c-can’t feel afraid...can he?” Breakdown asked. 

“What’re you lot talkin’ about?” At the sound of Motormaster’s voice, Breakdown shrieked and promptly hid behind Dead End. 

“Oh, hi, boss! We were just talking about you!” Wildrider exclaimed. Drag Strip facepalmed.

“Thanks for telling him that, moron,” he said. 

“What? We were,” Wildrider replied. A polka-dotted umbrella opened, closed, whacked Drag Strip over the head, and then vanished. 

“Your brothers am worried about you Motormaster. Them think that you Motormaster have been acting strange, and they not sure why. Us trying to figure out what wrong when you show up,” Swoop said. Motormaster scowled, and suddenly Wildrider realized why Drag Strip had been mad that he had told Motormaster that they were talking about him. Motormaster didn’t like it when you talked about him behind his back, and now he was going to give Wildrider and his brothers owies, just like he had at Decepticon HQ. After all, none of the higher-ranking Autobots were around to stop him. 

“What’s  _ wrong _ ? I told you what’s wrong the day we got here! I’m surrounded by a bunch of squishies and mechs who’re supposed to be my enemies, I ain’t allowed to lead you or do what I want, and Optimus Prime, the mech I hated more than anyone else in the universe, is being nice to me an’ I don’t understand  _ why _ ! Nothin’ makes sense anymore! I was built to be a Decepticon. I wanted to be one! I did everything I could to make Megatron happy; to be strong and ruthless and tough and never show mercy. I did everything I could to be a perfect Decepticon, and it wasn’t enough! Megatron kicked me out, an’ now I’m stuck tryin’ to play a game I don’t understand with a bunch of stupid goody-goods who won’t even treat me like the enemy! An’ I can’t even leave, ‘cause I ain’t got nowhere else to go! An’...an’....it’s ‘cause I  _ failed _ ! I failed my creator, and so he…he got rid of me. I hate weakness as much as Megatron does, but if he got rid of me, that means I ain’t strong enough; that I ain’t good enough...an’ I’m...I’m...I’m afraid of trying to be something else. If I screwed up the thing I was built to do so badly my own creator threw me out, I ain’t got-ain’t got a chance here,” Motormaster replied. Then he actually started crying, just like Breaky did when he was really freaked out. And if that wasn’t weird enough, Breakdown actually detached himself from Dead End’s back and patted Motormaster’s hand. Wildrider shut off his optics, then turned them back on, but the scene was still there. Was he hallucinating again? Could even his busted CPU come up with something this weird? 

“M-M-Megatron thinks w-w-we’re all weak, M-M-Motormaster. But w-w-we aren’t. Inferno told m-m-me that w-w-we did way more than anyone had a right to expect s-s-sparklings to do. I still can h-h-hardly believe it myself, but he says that w-w-we aren’t failures for not being able to do w-w-what mechs twenty thousand times our age h-h-haven’t been able to do,” Breakdown said. 

“Breakdown is correct. While we are hopelessly glitched and doomed to painful demises, our destiny of failure is hardly something that Megatron could not have predicted. The results of sending us into the field were his fault more than they were ours,” Dead End added. Wildrider turned his audio receptors off and then back on. Was this really happening? 

“Yeah, we ain’t weak. We’ve got me!” Drag Strip exclaimed. All right, all three of his brothers were reacting to Motormaster crying. It was almost certainly happening, and that gave him a great idea. 

“Cuddle time!” he exclaimed. He dragged Dead End and Drag Strip over to Motormaster and Breaky, and, much to his pleased surprise, all of his brothers actually cooperated and formed a large group hug/cuddle pile with Motormaster in the center. Motormaster looked a bit bewildered, but he didn’t glare at them or threaten them with owies. In fact, he actually seemed surprised, just in a happy way. 

“Can me Swoop join cuddle time?” Wildrider was going to say yes, but then Breakdown whimpered. 

“Uh, maybe next time. Breaky’s still spooked around Dinobots,” he said. 

“That okay. Me Swoop go tell Dinobots that you not coming on this fishing trip, but that you will make it to next one,” Swoop said. Wildrider nodded. With that, Swoop left, leaving Wildrider alone with his brothers as a huge grin spread across his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.


	13. Driver's Ed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stunticons meet their greatest foe yet: road legality!

Three days after Motormaster’s weird emotional breakdown (Wildrider still wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t hallucinated it, it had been so weird), Prowl and Jazz asked the Stunticons to meet them outside of the Ark. Wildrider, who had been in the middle of playing a giant version of the squishy game “Twister” with the Dinobots, frowned. Couldn’t they have called him earlier? 

“Uh, guys, I gotta go. Prowl and Jazz wanna talk to me and my brothers about something.” 

“But us... Dinobots...playing Twister!” Sludge protested. 

“I know. I don’t wanna leave either, but I got orders,” Wildrider replied. Sludge looked puzzled, and then lost his balance and collapsed on top of Slag. This made Swoop and Wildrider giggle, and they both collapsed. 

“OW! You Sludge is clumsy moron! Get off me Slag!” 

“Me...Sludge...am sorry,” Sludge replied as he awkwardly climbed off the pineapple dinosaur. In response, Slag breathed fire at him. 

“Me Slag hate you forever!” As grumpy as Slag was, Wildrider knew that when he said he would hate Sludge forever, he really meant that he would hate Sludge until someone else made him mad, which, since he was Slag, wouldn’t be very long. 

“Ow,” Sludge muttered. 

“Me Grimlock am winner!” Grimlock exclaimed. Since Snarl had refused to do anything more than use the spinner, Grimlock was, in fact, the last mech standing. 

“That mean game over. Him Wildrider can go now, Sludge,” Swoop said. 

“Okay. You...Wildrider...have fun,” Sludge replied. 

“I will. Bye, guys!” Wildrider exclaimed. With that, he transformed into alternate mode and drove towards the Ark’s main exit, swerving to avoid various Autobots and laughing loudly. He flew out of the exit….and almost plowed straight into Jazz, who only narrowly managed to dive out of his way. 

“I found Wildrider, everybody,” Jazz said from his position on the ground. Wildrider returned to his robot mode. 

“Hi! Sorry I’m late! I was playing Twister with the Dinobots!” he exclaimed. Dead End sighed wearily, and Drag Strip facepalmed. 

“And  _ that _ is what we wished to discuss with you,” Prowl said. 

“Wildrider?” Drag Strip asked. Jazz, who had been standing up, laughed so hard that he ended up having to sit down again. 

“No, my mech. Not Wildrider. What Wildrider just  _ did _ ,” he said once he finished laughing. 

“Precisely. We need to discuss the way you drive,” Prowl added. Drag Strip scowled. 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with the way we drive! Driving’s the one thing we’re actually all good at! I’m the best, of course, but all of us know how to drive. It’s what we were made to do!” Wildrider agreed. He might be a crazy pineapple, but he was a good driver! 

“With our luck, we’ll be bad at drivin’, too. We’ve failed at everything else we were made ta do. Why would drivin’ be any different?” Motormaster muttered.

“The problem isn’t that you don’t know how to drive, Drag Strip. You are clearly quite capable drivers, considering the stunts you’ve been able to pull off. The problem is that all five of you are reckless drivers. Wildrider is the worst, but all five of you are rather infamous for endangering others and breaking driving laws on the road,” Prowl said. 

“It ain’t exactly your fault-old Buckethead sure didn’t teach y’all better-but if you wanna be able to drive places, you’re gonna have to learn the rules of the road,” Jazz added as he finally made it back to his feet. All the Stunticons stared at him blankly. 

“The roads are alive?” Breakdown shrieked, no doubt terrified at the idea that the road might have been staring at him. Wildrider just felt confused. The roads he’d been driving on had been alive this whole time? Jazz burst out laughing again, and Prowl glared at him. 

“Sorry, Prowl, I know Breakdown freaking out ain’t funny. But you gotta admit, the fact that they assumed that the roads havin’ rules meant that the roads were alive is a little amusing.” 

“No, Breakdown. The roads are not alive. The rules of the road are established by humans-or, on Cybertron, by Cybertronians-to make sure that everyone stays safe on the roads. The roads themselves did not establish them,” Prowl said. Breakdown sighed in obvious relief as a cloud turned into a giant yellow pac-man and started eating other clouds. 

“Oooh, look! A Pac-man cloud!” Wildrider exclaimed. Dead End looked at him oddly, and Wildrider sighed. Another hallucination. 

“What are these so-called “rules of the road”?” Dead End asked. 

“I’m afraid there are quite a few of them, Dead End. To help us explain, we decided to have Hound create some visual aids for us. He should be arriving shortly,” Prowl replied. Sure enough, about a minute later, Hound joined the group. 

“Hi!” Hound said. 

“Hey, Hound. You still on for tonight?” Drag Strip asked. 

“Of course. You’ve been making great progress with the book, especially considering the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever read something,” Hound replied. 

“ _Book_?” Wildrider, Dead End, and Breakdown asked in unison. 

“What? I’m learnin’ to be the best reader ever!” Drag Strip exclaimed defensively. 

“I thought that you despised the idea of learning how to read. You always spurned my efforts to teach you, futile as they would have been,” Dead End said. 

“That’s ‘cause you’re a mope! How was I supposed to know that not only mopes liked reading?” Drag Strip replied. 

“Perhaps through your alleged genius?” Dead End asked. 

“Shut it, End!” Drag Strip exclaimed. 

C-c-could you t-t-teach me how to read, too?” Breakdown asked.

“If you’re sure I wouldn’t make you nervous, of course,” Hound replied gently. Breakdown gave him a slight smile. Wildrider wished that he could learn to read, too, but he knew that he was too crazy for that. Oh, well. At least his brothers would be able to learn. 

“Ahem! While I am glad that you want to learn to read, can we return to the topic at hand, please?” Prowl asked. 

“Yes, we can. Sorry, Prowl,” Hound replied. 

“It’s quite alright. Jazz, are you ready to start instructing the Stunticons in the rules of the road?” Prowl asked. 

“‘Course I am, Prowler. You can just call me Professor Jazz,” Jazz replied. With that, one of the red signs that Wildrider had occasionally seen while driving appeared. 

“Uh, I see a red sign. Am I hallucinating again?” he asked. Jazz laughed. 

“Naw, my mech. That’s one of Hound’s holograms. In fact, it’s a hologram of a stop sign.” 

“Does it fire a decelerator ray that forces you to slow down, perhaps?” Dead End asked. Jazz smiled. 

“That’s a good guess, but no. On its own, it doesn’t really do anything. It’s just a signal for drivers-in this case, you guys-to slow down so that you don’t run the risk of hitting other cars.” 

“Indeed. When you see one of the signs, it is expected that you come to a stop, preferably slowing down several feet before the sign so that you don’t have to come to a sharp halt. Any questions?” Prowl added.

“Why do we have to do that? Sure, crashes ain’t fun, but we don’t get hurt in ‘em or nothin’. At worst, we get a couple of dents,” Drag Strip asked. 

“In our case, stoppin’ ain’t so much to protect us. It’s to protect the humans on the road. They ain’t nearly as durable as their cars, and they can get seriously hurt if you plow into them. I know y’all ain’t sure what you think of humans yet, but we expect you not to hurt them,” Jazz explained. Wildrider nodded. He still thought most squishies were weird, but he really liked Carly and Spike and Sparkplug and Chip (particularly memorable as the squishy with wheels), so he supposed he didn’t really want to hurt squishies by plowing into their cars the way he once apparently had. 

“Oh. I knew that. I just wanted to make sure everyone else did,” Drag Strip said. 

“ _Sure_ you did,” Wildrider said. 

“I did too!” 

“Did not!” 

“Did too!” 

“Did not!” 

“Did too!” 

“That’s enough, you two,” Prowl said. Wildrider and Drag Strip fell silent. 

“All right, then. Hound, my mech, bring up the next hologram,” Jazz said. Hound nodded, and a row of three lights encased in a funny yellow box appeared. 

“Now this is called a traffic light. It works kind of like a stop sign, but it’s a little more complicated. When the bottom portion, which is green, is lit up, you can drive past it. When the middle portion, which is yellow, is lit up, you start slowing down. And when it’s red, you stop, just like with a stop sign. You usually see these at busy parts of the road that are called intersections, which are places where a lot of traffic is going through at the same time, and they’re used to prevent collisions,” Jazz explained. Wildrider sighed. He was starting to wish he knew how to write so that he could take notes. As weird and interesting as these “rules of the road” were, they were also really confusing, and he could use some help remembering them all.  Maybe he could ask Dead End to take notes for him. That way, he could be sure that he would drive right from now on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.


	14. Darkness Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motormaster makes a deal with the devil. 
> 
> I'm alive! Thanks for waiting for this chapter, and I hope you like it.

About a week later, Wildrider was walking through the halls of the Ark, looking for Jazz and hoping that Jazz could re-explain how to merge onto the highway correctly, when he noticed two things that were very weird. The first was that a particularly large peanut was walking down the hall in the opposite direction, and the second was Motormaster, who seemed a bit jumpy and nervous and appeared to be heading out of the Ark. Motormaster hadn’t left the Ark by himself since their arrival at the Autobot base, so this was really strange. His question about merging forgotten, Wildrider decided to follow Motormaster and see if he could figure out what was behind his latest bit of weird behavior. After following him out of the base and watching him transform into his semi truck mode, Wildrider transformed as well and took off after him. Wildrider almost lost Motormaster in his attempts to obey all the traffic laws (which he still didn’t really understand), but luckily, the semi drove off of the road and into the desert about forty miles out from Autobot HQ, allowing Wildrider to increase his speed and drive in the way he was used to doing. In fact, Wildrider was so happy to be able to drive as fast as he wanted to that he almost forgot that he was supposed to be tracking Motormaster and nearly drove past him! Luckily, Motormaster didn’t notice him, and Wildrider was able to slow down a bit and keep following the semi. 

After about fifty more miles (according to Wildrider’s speedometer at least, which was less than reliable, due to his inability to determine whether he was hallucinating a reading), Motormaster stopped and transformed back into robot mode. Wildrider drove behind a nearby rock formation, one that was just big enough for him to hide behind, transformed into robot mode, and waited. And waited. And waited. In fact, he waited so long that he was about to give up and go back to the Ark when a large silver shape flew in and landed. Megatron! Why was Motormaster meeting with Megatron? Even Wildrider, crazy as he was, knew that Megatron wanted him and all of his brothers very dead, and Motormaster was a lot smarter, and at least somewhat less crazy, than him. Didn’t he know that this was a bad idea? 

“Why’d ya call me here? I thought you said that I was a piece ‘a’ malfunctionin’ equipment and that you didn't wanna have nothin' ta do with me!” Motormaster demanded. Megatron smirked. 

“I did, and I stand by what I said. However, I have decided to give you a chance to change my mind. Laserbeak has informed us that you and your pack of glitches were taken in by the Autobots. Given that it’s been a few weeks since I expelled you from the ranks, you must have accumulated a fair amount of information about the Autobots-about their weaknesses and their strategies. What’s more, you must also have gained at least some of their trust, as Laserbeak reported that you were not being treated as their prisoner. I don’t know how you managed it, but you even appear to have gotten Optimus Prime to see you as an ally, which gives both of us an excellent opportunity. I know Prime-he’s a sentimental fool. If he believes you have truly changed your ways, which I think he does, he will trust you implicitly, and will therefore not be on guard around you,” he said. 

“Get to the point already. Whaddya want me ta do for ya?” Motormaster asked. Megatron dramatically placed the back of his hand to his forehead, frowned, suddenly turned aquamarine, and then returned to his normal colors. 

“For _me_ ? Motormaster, you insult me. This is for _you_. Do you know how rarely I give second chances to failures? If you do what I ask you to, I will reinstate you in the ranks, and, what’s more, I will give you a higher rank than you had before you were removed. This is a great opportunity, my creation, one that I would advise you not to waste,” Megatron replied. Motormaster still didn’t look happy, but his scowl softened. Wildrider frowned. This was bad. He didn’t know what Megatron had in mind, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good. 

“So….uh….what is it?” Motormaster asked. Megatron smiled again, wide and creepy. 

“Simple, my creation. Optimus Prime trusts you now-you’re even sharing quarters with him. That gives you the perfect opportunity to strike a decisive blow for the Decepticon cause,” Megatron replied. He held up a container of weird-looking purple stuff. 

“Do you fuel with Prime?” Motormaster looked puzzled. 

“Yeah. Why?” he asked. Megatron’s smile got even wider. 

“Good. Here’s what you need to do. When Prime is ready to refuel, offer to get the cubes for both of you. Once you get the fuel, spike his container of it with this-a special additive created by Mixmaster. When it’s dissolved into liquid fuel, it’s odorless and colorless, and it’s a newly created substance, so Prime’s sensors won’t detect it as a threat. Drinking fuel spiked with this will render him unconscious, and once that happens, you will transport him from the Ark to our headquarters, where I will at last be able to rid myself of my hated enemy.” 

“You want me ta target Prime?” Motormaster asked. 

“Is that _reluctance_ I hear in your voice, Motormaster? Don’t you want to destroy the pretender to your throne?” Megatron taunted. 

“Well...yeah...but-” 

“But _what_?” 

“He...he’s actually been nice to me. I know it’s just ‘cause of Autobot weakness, but...but I….do you have ta _kill_ him? Couldn’t we just capture him or somethin’?” Megatron laughed harshly, and, once again, glass shards flew everywhere. Wildrider frowned. He hated when Megatron's laugh did that.

“You sound like one of Prime’s weak-willed Autobot lackeys! Capturing Optimus Prime would do us no good. We’ve had him captured before, and he just escaped! Killing him is the only way to remove the threat he poses! Don’t tell me you actually _like_ Prime, Motormaster!”

“Well...I-” 

“Don’t be a fool, Motormaster. I programmed you to be a Decepticon. You’ll never be able to live as a soft-sparked Autobot puppet, and as soon as you reveal what you _really_ are, your precious Optimus Prime will have you locked up for the rest of your life. You’re ruthless and powerful and aggressive, all things that the Autobots frown upon, and as such, you have only two options: Keep pretending to be an Autobot pet until you do something so bad that they stick you in a cage like the mechanimal they’ll think you are, or accept my offer and become what you were created to be-a fearsome, respected Decepticon officer. My beloved _creation_ ,” Megatron replied. A mixture of hope and fear spread across Motormaster’s faceplates. 

“You….you’re right, Lord Megatron. I ain’t Autobot material, an’ I never will be. Might as well admit it and move on. Give me the container.” Motormaster sounded more defeated than excited about the prospect, but he’d still accepted. Wildrider couldn’t let him go through with this! He had to tell the Autobots and his brothers that Motormaster was working with Megatron!

“Excellent! However, before you take out Optimus Prime, I need you to prove that you won’t let sentimentality get in the way of your mission. Someone followed you, Motormaster. Terminate him!” Megatron exclaimed, pointing directly at Wildrider. This shocked the Ferrari. How had Megatron seen him? He was sure that the rock formation was hiding him! Then Wildrider noticed that the rock formation was gone. He had hallucinated it! 

“But Lord Megatron...that’s Wildrider!” Motormaster protested. 

“I _know_ who it is, Motormaster. Now kill him before he can tell the Autobots what we’re planning!” Wildrider transformed into his alternate mode, but before he could drive off, Motormaster grabbed him, and he returned to robot mode. 

“Lord Megatron, Wildrider’s an annoying little glitch, but he’s harmless. Even if he doesn’t forget our conversation five minutes from now, no one’ll believe a lunatic like him when he tells them that I was meeting the mech who kicked me out of the only life I ever knew. He says crazy stuff like that all the time. There ain't no reason to kill him,” Motormaster said. Wildrider tried to break free of his grip, but to no avail. 

“I see my concerns were well-founded. If you can’t even kill a worthless, processor-glitched neutral, you’ll never be able to kill Optimus Prime. Enjoy your life in an Autobot cell,” Megatron sneered. He started to walk away. 

“Lord Megatron, wait! I...I’ll do it,” he said. Megatron turned around. 

“Good! Put Wildrider down, my _son_.” Motormaster frowned and pulled out his gun, hands shaking violently, then put the barrel to Wildrider’s chest. His hands kept shaking as his finger found the trigger. 

“Wildrider...I’m sorry,” Motormaster whispered. It was the first time Wildrider could remember him apologizing for anything. Then there was a burst of pain, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big cliffhanger ending for this chapter! I promise I will update sooner this time so it won't be too horrible. :) 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


	15. Back from the Brink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wildrider has the weirdest experience of his life (and that's saying something)!

Wildrider opened his optics to find himself in a place he’d never seen. It was filled with colors and lights that he couldn’t identify, and everything seemed to be shrouded in mist. Where was he? Was this another hallucination? How was he hallucinating if Motormaster had killed him? Then, out of nowhere, a blue-and-magenta mech with a cape and what looked kind of like the beard of a squishy appeared out of the mist. 

“Who are you?” Wildrider asked. The mech smiled. 

“Greetings, Wildrider. I am Alpha Trion,” he said. He sounded older than anyone Wildrider had ever met….even older than Megatron! 

“Where am I? And how do you know who I am?” Wildrider would’ve remembered meeting a mech as funny-looking as this one. Probably. 

“Wildrider, you are currently in the Well of All Sparks, and I know who you are because my essence has been merged with Vector Sigma, the supercomputer which gave you life,” Alpha Trion replied. 

“You merged with the funny-looking disco ball?” Wildrider asked. He tried and failed to visualize that. Alpha Trion laughed. 

“Yes, I did, and by so doing, I gained knowledge of all its creation, including you.” 

“You said we were in the Well of All Sparks, right? What’s that?” Wildrider asked. Alpha Trion shook his head. 

“Clearly, Megatron failed to teach you anything about our species. The Well of All Sparks is where Cybertronians go when they are deactivated,” he explained. 

“So, I’m dead?” Wildrider asked. Death wasn’t as scary as he’d expected. 

“Not quite. Your spark briefly flickered out, but it wasn’t extinguished. In fact, that’s why I’m here. Your spark needs to be guided back to your body,” Alpha Trion replied. Wildrider nodded. It sounded crazy, but it wasn’t any crazier than the things his CPU came up with on a regular basis. 

“Okay. Lead the way,” he said. Alpha Trion took his hand and led him to what looked like a tunnel of light. 

“Follow that tunnel, and you will find yourself back in your own body. Good luck, young one,” Alpha Trion told him. 

“Thanks for your help, Disco Ball Guy!” Wildrider replied. He walked into the tunnel, there was a flash of light, and then he saw Motormaster standing over him. 

“Wildrider! You’re alive!” The semi sounded utterly relieved. 

“Of course I am. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, boss,” Wildrider replied weakly. He wasn’t sure why Motormaster was still here or where Megatron had gone, but he couldn’t say he was complaining. Then he felt a wave of pain and passed out. 

When Wildrider reawakened, he was in the Autobot medbay, with a concerned-looking Doc Ratchet standing over him. 

“Hi, Doc!” he exclaimed happily. 

“Don’t call me Doc!” Doc Ratchet replied. 

“Sorry, Doc.” The Doc shook his head. 

“Hello, Wildrider. How are you?” he asked. 

“I’m okay, Doc. But I gotta tell you something. Motormaster and Megatron are-” he began. 

“Motormaster agreed to capture Optimus Prime for Megatron. We know,” Doc Ratchet interrupted. Wildrider stared at him in shock. 

“How’d you find that out, Doc?” 

“Motormaster told us when he brought you back to base and surrendered himself into our custody,” Doc Ratchet replied. Before Wildrider could respond to that, he heard a series of loud footsteps, and then the medbay was invaded by Breakdown, Drag Strip, Dead End, and five Dinobots. 

“It would seem that you have managed to temporarily avoid your inevitable, painful demise, Wildrider. I am pleased to see that,” Dead End said. 

“Are y-y-you alright?” Breakdown asked. 

“Who hurt you Wildrider? Us Dinbots crush them!” Grimlock demanded. 

“Yes! Us smash! Me Slag love smashing!” Slag exclaimed.

“No one hurt honorary Dinobot!” Snarl said. 

“No one...hurt...us Dinobots’...friend,” Sludge added.

“Ratchet, will him Wildrider be okay?” Swoop asked. 

“He’s still gonna be able to race me so that I can prove that I’m better than him, right?”

“QUIET!” Ratchet exclaimed. Everyone in the room fell silent. 

“Thank you. Now, ask your questions one at a time. Wildrider just woke up, so I don’t want you to overwhelm him.” Wildrider grinned and waved at his brothers and the Dinobots. 

“Hi, guys!” he said. 

“Are you Wildrider okay?” Swoop asked. Wildrider shrugged and looked at Doc Ratchet.

“Am I okay, Doc?” Doc Ratchet smiled. 

“Yes, Wildrider. You’ll be just fine. You gave us all a pretty good scare, but you managed to pull through. You’re a tough little bugger,” he said. 

“Will he still be able to race me?” Drag Strip asked. Doc Ratchet shook his head.

“Not for the next four weeks, hot shot. He may be awake now, but he’s not in full repair just yet, and I don’t want to risk him injuring himself again.” 

“What about when he gets better?” Drag Strip insisted.

“Yes, then he can race you all he wants...but if either of you come home with your tires blown out or something because of it, you’re repairing that damage yourself!” 

“Who did this to him Wildrider? Us Dinobots need to know so that us can destroy them!” Grimlock exclaimed.  Wildrider frowned. While he was glad that the Dinobots wanted to protect him, he also didn’t want them to destroy Motormaster. A large daisy settled on Sludge’s head, turned into a rose, and then vanished. 

“Well, uh, it was Motormaster, but if he hadn’t brought me back here, I’d be dead, I think, so it’d be good if you didn’t destroy him. Well, technically, I did die, but then a funny bearded robot who said he was part of the disco ball that made me all crazy showed up and gave me directions to become alive again,” Wildrider explained. In response, everyone, even Doc Ratchet, stared at him in shock. The medbay was so quiet that Wildrider could’ve heard a pin drop. Finally, after several seconds (during which Wildrider worried that the voices might return), Sludge broke the silence. 

“You Wildrider...was dead?” he asked. 

“I guess. The Disco Ball Guy said that my spark flickered out for a couple seconds and then came back on.” 

“Him Wildrider a  _ zombie _ ? Me Slag hate zombies! Me Slag kill him!” Slag exclaimed. In response, Grimlock transformed into robot mode and grabbed him by the frill. 

“You Slag do nothing of sort! Him Wildrider not trying to eat processors, so him Wildrider not zombie,” he ordered. 

“Fine! But me Slag had better get to beat up someone else later.” 

“Maybe him Wildrider a ghost,” Snarl suggested. Unlike Slag, he didn’t sound upset. Instead, he sounded bored, just like Snarl always did. Breakdown shrieked and hid behind Dead End. 

“Unlikely. Ghosts are generally incorporeal,” Dead End said. 

“What that mean?” Snarl asked. Wildrider wanted to know that, too. Dead End’s vocabulary was confusing. 

“Incorporeal is the state of not having a physical body. From what I understand, ghosts are spirits, and so they do not have a physical form. Since Wildrider still does, it stands to reason that he is not a ghost,” Dead End replied. 

“Wildrider, are you saying that you met  _ Alpha Trion _ ?” Doc Ratchet asked. Oh, yeah! The Disco Ball Guy had said that that was his name! But how did Doc Ratchet know that? 

“That’s what he said his name was, yeah. How do you know him, Doc?” 

“I know him because Alpha Trion was one of the oldest and most revered Autobots- and the creator of Optimus Prime,” Doc Ratchet replied. Wildrider’s mouth dropped open. 

“Whoa. I stopped being dead because of Optimus Prime’s creator? I didn’t think a crazy pineapple like me was that important!” 

“Apparently Alpha Trion disagreed...and he was a pretty good judge of character,” Doc Ratchet replied. Wildrider smiled slightly, still in shock. He wasn’t anybody important! He wasn’t Optimus Prime! He was a crazy glitch who’d been programmed to be pretty much the exact opposite of Optimus Prime! Why would Alpha Trion want to talk to him? He was dragged out of his confusion by a question from Dead End. 

“What was being dead like?” Wildrider shrugged. 

“I dunno. I was only dead for a couple minutes. The Well of AllSparks…I think that’s what Alpha Trion called it….was kinda neat, though,” Wildrider replied. 

“The what?” Drag Strip asked. 

“The Well of AllSparks. It’s where Cybertronians go when they die,” Doc Ratchet explained. 

“I knew that! I just wanted to see if anyone else did!” Drag Strip lied. Dead End just shook his head. 

“I suppose it is some measure of comfort to know that my life will not simply be extinguished upon my undoubtedly painful death...but with my luck, the Well of AllSparks will prove to be yet another bastion of misery and woe,” he said mournfully. Breakdown whimpered and looked at Wildrider hopefully. 

“It’s n-n-not a dangerous p-p-place, is it?” he asked. 

“I don’t think so, Breaky. I think you’ll be safe there,” Wildrider replied. Breakdown looked relieved. Grimlock, meanwhile, put his hands on his hips. 

“Me Grimlock knew him Wildrider would make good honorary Dinobot! Him Wildrider important enough for him Alpha Trion to talk to him! Him Wildrider am clearly great Cybertronian!” he exclaimed proudly. Wildrider grinned. He was still pretty sure that Alpha Trion couldn’t have really helped him because he was actually important, but it was nice that Grimlock thought so...and even nicer to be back with his friends again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!


	16. Instant Trouble: Just Add Combaticons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wildrider and Motormaster have a chat that gets rudely interrupted.

Two days after his near-death experience, Wildrider decided to visit Motormaster and ask him why he hadn’t gone through with Megatron’s plan. Doc Ratchet and Ironhide hadn’t liked that idea, and Grimlock had seemed a little too happy with the idea of coming along for the conversation, but eventually Jazz had okayed the idea and offered to escort him to the brig.

“You sure you wanna do this, my mech?” Jazz asked as he entered the code that allowed him access to the brig. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve said that like a hundred million times,” Wildrider replied. Jazz laughed. 

“Okay, okay. I was just makin’ sure, my mech. After all, he  _ did  _ hurt you pretty bad.” Wildrider just shrugged. After all Motormaster had put him and his brothers through, he knew he should probably hate the big semi, but for some reason he didn’t. Maybe it was because Motormaster’s programming was almost as glitched as his, just in a different way, maybe it was because he had never really had the capacity to hate anyone, maybe it was because Motormaster was made of plums, and maybe it was because he was a crazy pineapple, but whatever the reason, he didn’t want to stop spending time with his ex-boss now that Motormaster couldn’t just beat them up whenever he wanted to. 

“He’s hurt me pretty bad a lot of times. This was the first time he apologized for it,” Wildrider explained. With that, the doors to the brig opened, and Wildrider followed Jazz inside. A large bear in a tutu pirouetted out of the doors in the opposite direction, and then Wildrider walked up to the cell Motormaster was in, smiled, and waved at his ex-boss. The semi looked at him in shock. 

“Wildrider? What’re  _ you _ doin’ here?” 

“It’s good to see you too. Did you see that bear in the tutu?” Motormaster stared at him blankly, and Wildrider shook his head. Another hallucination. 

“Never mind. I’m here to say hi, and also to ask you why you aren’t still working for Megatron. Oh, and to tell you that I was dead and then I wasn’t dead and it was because Optimus Prime’s creator merged with the disco ball that gave us personalities and was there to help me come back from the Well of AllSparks.” Motormaster continued to stare blankly, which was a little confusing. He hadn’t hallucinated that one! Then he realized that Motormaster didn’t know that he hadn’t hallucinated it. 

“Long story, my mech. Why don’t you just explain to your brother why you decided not to go through with Megatron’s little scheme,” Jazz said quickly, much to Wildrider’s relief. Wildrider was pretty sure that he wouldn’t’ve been able to explain what had happened to him in a way that made sense.  _ He _ didn’t even understand it! (Not that that was surprising. He was a crazy, stupid pineapple. There wasn’t a lot he did understand.) Motormaster looked at the floor and actually seemed embarrassed. 

“I changed my mind the second you hit the ground an’ I saw your spark flicker out. When that happened...I just...I realized that I couldn’t go through with a plan that meant I’d haveta kill you an’ End an’ Breakdown an’ Drag Strip. I mean, I used ta beat y’all up pretty bad, but I hadn’t never tried ta kill ya...and seein’ you, lookin’ like you were dead….I just couldn’t go along with it anymore. I threw the purple stuff back at Megatron an’ I told him that I quit, an’ then he punched me an’ flew off. After that I ran over ta you, your spark flickered back on, an’ I took you back to Autobot HQ and surrendered. I’m sorry for what I did ta ya, Wildrider. I always thought I was a great leader, but Prime told me that a great leader looks after his troops first, an’ given what I’ve done ta y’all, that makes me a pretty lousy leader,” he explained. 

“Yeah, you’re kind of lousy at bein’ our boss...but if I can go for three weeks without hearing those mean voices, Breakdown can go a few hours without hiding behind Dead End or Inferno, and Drag Strip can learn to read, I think you can learn to be a better boss,” Wildrider replied. Motormaster looked up in surprise. 

“You don’t hate me after what I’ve done ta you an’ the others? Why?” Wildrider shrugged. 

“Probably because I’m a crazy pineapple. Not hating you is probably one of the less weird things I’ve done. If you want someone to hate you, you should talk to Drag Strip,” he replied. Unlike Wildrider, Drag Strip could hold a grudge like nobody’s business. In response, Motormaster actually laughed.

“Good point. Anything else you wanna talk about?” he asked. 

“The Dinobots want to murder you for almost murdering me, so you might want to avoid them for awhile once you get out of the brig. Especially Grimlock. It took Jazz, Doc Ratchet, Dead End, and me to talk him out of coming here with us so that he could beat you up,” Wildrider replied.

“Good ta know,” Motormaster said. 

“How long is he gonna be in the brig, anyway, Jazz?” Wildrider asked. Jazz shrugged. 

“That, my mech, is up to Optimus Prime, Prowl, and Red Alert. Though the fact that he surrendered himself and helped to save your life makes it likely that he won’t be in here for too terribly long. Megatron’s manipulated mechs a lot older and a lot less created by him than Motormaster,” he replied.  Wildrider smiled. Motormaster had changed a lot since their arrival at Autobot HQ-in a good way-and Wildrider was glad that he wasn’t going to be locked up forever. 

“On the last we agree, Autobot. Megatron can be very persuasive when he wishes to be.” Wildrider spun around in surprise to see Onslaught pointing a gun at Jazz’s head, with Blast Off and Swindle to his left and Brawl and Vortex on his right. 

“For a given definition of the word, of course,” Blast Off added coldly. Wildrider stared at them in shock. How had the Combaticons gotten inside Autobot HQ? Was he hallucinating again? 

“What are you creeps doin’ in here? And how’d you get past security?” Jazz demanded. Wildrider sighed. Apparently he  _ wasn’t _ hallucinating. Suddenly, he felt the barrel of a gun press against his head. 

“DON’T MOVE, PSYCHO! IF YOU DO, I’LL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF!” Brawl bellowed. Wildrider winced. He liked noise, but Brawl screaming right into his audios was too much even for him. And he didn’t like being called a “psycho”. It wasn’t like he could help being a crazy pineapple. 

“I thought ‘Psycho’ was reserved for Vortex,” Swindle said.

“I’m not a psycho, Stumpy. I’m differently sane,” the helicopter replied. 

“If you have to say that, you’re definitely a psycho.” At this point, Jazz started to snicker.

“Not true. Wildrider here is crazy. He can’t control his perception of reality. _I_ am differently sane. I deliberately rearrange reality to suit my needs,” Vortex replied. 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” 

“It makes sense to me.” 

“Torturing for fun and irritating Brawl until he tries to kill you makes sense to you too.” 

“Come on, Stumpy. Irritating Brawl until he tries to kill me is hilarious!” 

“No, it’s not!” 

“It is too!” 

“Enough of that, both of you! We’re here to complete a mission, not argue over Vortex’s dubious level of mental stability,” Onslaught snapped. 

“What is that mission, anyhow? I assume you aren’t here for energon and rust sticks,” Jazz asked. 

“WE’RE HERE TO KILL-” Brawl began. Wildrider whimpered. His poor, abused audio receptors. 

“Brawl! Silence!” Onslaught barked, but Wildrider could tell from the gleam in Jazz’s optics that it was too late. Jazz had already figured out why they were here...which was good, since he had no clue. 

“You’re here to assassinate Motormaster for failing to go through with Megatron’s plan to kill Optimus Prime,” Jazz said confidently. Onslaught glared at Brawl and then nodded. 

“Indeed. Let us proceed with our mission, and we will let you and this crazy glitch live. Interfere, and you will both be terminated,” he said coldly. 

“Really, we’re happy either way. It’s been way too long since I killed someone,” Vortex added gleefully. Wildrider whimpered. He’d had enough near-death experiences already. Did he really need another one?  Jazz, by contrast, just smiled. 

“Unfortunately for you, I’ve already set off the silent alarm. In a few seconds, this place’ll be swarming with Autobots. So no, I ain’t gonna let you kill Motormaster,” he said. Onslaught and Brawl exchanged a glance and released him and Jazz. Wildrider grinned. They weren’t going to die after all! Jazz was a genius! 

“Combaticons, merge into Bruticus!” Onslaught exclaimed. A few seconds later, Wildrider was staring at the face of a huge combiner whose optics were gleaming in rage. 

“PUNY AUTOBOT TRY TO MAKE FOOLS OUT OF US! BRUTICUS HATE THAT! BRUTICUS PROVE THAT COMBATICONS ALWAYS COMPLETE MISSION! BRUTICUS DESTROY!” Bruticus pulled out his massive gun, and both Jazz and Wildrider hit the floor...but Bruticus wasn’t aiming at them. He was aiming at Motormaster! Before Wildrider could react, Bruticus fired, and Motormaster’s cell went up in flames. Bruticus laughed. 

“BRUTICUS VICTORIOUS!” With that, he punched through a wall, exited the Ark through the massive hole he created, and flew away. Only a few seconds afterward, Jazz’s reinforcements-Inferno, Ironhide, Warpath, Trailbreaker, and Sideswipe- arrived. Inferno promptly transformed and put out the flames as Ironhide turned to Jazz. 

“Judgin’ from the shape of the hole in the far wall, I’d take it that Bruticus was here,” Ironhide said. 

“Yep….and I’m afraid he might’ve gotten what he came for,” Jazz said grimly. Wildrider, for his part, rushed into Motormaster’s cell...only to see the big semi collapsed on the floor, damaged almost beyond recognition. Wildrider started to wail. He and his brothers had been happy here! Why was everything going so wrong? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger! I promise I will post the resolution to it soon. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


	17. Rise of the...Stuntabots?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably a little short, but I didn't want to leave the cliffhanger hanging for too long. 
> 
> The Stunticons continue their journey of introspection in their own inimitable fashion.

A few hours later, Wildrider, Dead End, Drag Strip, and Breakdown found themselves waiting outside the medbay where Doc Ratchet was trying to save Motormaster’s life. 

“D-d-do you t-t-think he’ll make it?” Breakdown asked nervously. 

“Unlikely. As Stunticons, we are all doomed to an early grave, and the fact that Wildrider escaped death so recently makes it even more likely that Motormaster will die,” Dead End replied. Breakdown started to sob, and Wildrider almost did, too. He didn’t want Motormaster to go to the Well of AllSparks! The disco ball guy might not be able to bring him back! 

“Why should we care if Motormaster dies? Before Megatron kicked us out, he made our lives miserable, and then he almost killed Wildrider!” Drag Strip exclaimed.

“But he’s our brother,” Wildrider replied. Drag Strip sneered. 

“You really are a lunatic, Wildrider. Motormaster ain’t our brother. If there’s one thing I’ve realized since I came here, it’s that brothers aren’t supposed to beat the living daylights out of each other...and that’s the only thing Motormaster ever did to us.” Wildrider frowned. 

“But he’s changed since Megatron kicked us out!” Dead End nodded. 

“As much as I agree that Motormaster’s treatment of us was inappropriate and unacceptable, Drag Strip, you must remember that much of his behavior was also a product of our environment. Megatron was the most obvious example of leadership he had to follow, and Megatron beat his troops with a fair degree of regularity. It doesn’t excuse what he did to us, but it does put it into perspective. If the Autobots can forgive us for attacking them and bringing harm to their human allies because we didn’t know better, I think we can extend the same courtesy to Motormaster. Besides, we are all ultimately doomed. His treatment of us will cease to matter when the great conveyor belt of life deposits us all into a mass grave,” he said. 

“He _shot_ Wildrider!” Drag Strip exclaimed. A trombone appeared, whacked Drag Strip on the head, and then vanished. Wildrider shook his head violently. He couldn’t be hallucinating now! His brothers needed him! 

“B-b-but he turned on Megatron and took Wildrider to Doctor R-R-Ratchet right after. If he w-w-wasn’t changing, he wouldn’t have done that. He used to w-w-worship Megatron, r-r-remember?” Breakdown replied nervously. 

“Yeah, and he apologized! He never used to apologize for things!” Wildrider added.

“You d-d-don’t _really_ w-w-want him to die, do you?” Drag Strip sighed. 

“Well...I...no. I don’t really want the stupid semi to die...but I’m so mad at him! Things were going so well before he decided to meet with Megatron! Everyone was happy, I was becoming the best reader ever, Dead End wasn’t being such a depressing drag, Wildrider and I were getting to have demolition derbies with the Dinobots...and then he goes and does something that almost got Wildrider killed and might get him killed! How could he do this to us?” 

“Spike and Sparkplug,” Wildrider explained. His brothers stared at him blankly, which puzzled Wildrider. They were all a lot smarter and less crazy than he was. If he could understand it, they should be able to! 

“What do Spike and Sparkplug have to do with Motormaster? Motormaster has barely interacted with the humans,” Dead End asked. 

“Spike usually does what Sparkplug tells him to do, because he’s his-what’s that squishy word for creator again?” 

“Dad?” Drag Strip suggested, still looking confused. 

“Yeah! Dad! Spike obeys Sparkplug because Sparkplug is his dad and he wants to make his dad proud of him. Megatron created Motormaster, and, unlike the four of us, Motormaster actually spent time with Megatron one-on-one sometimes. Motormaster thinks of Megatron like a father, and that’s why he’s been so unhappy. Megatron never acted like our father, but he did act a little like one to Motormaster. Motormaster loves Megatron the way Spike loves Sparkplug. When Megatron kicked him out, Motormaster thought it was because he failed as a...uh, what’s that squishy word for creation?” 

“Son,” Dead End replied. He looked as though he might be starting to understand. 

“Yeah! Thanks, End! Motormaster thought he was kicked out because he’d failed to be a good enough son. We were rejected by a creator and a boss, and that was bad enough. He was rejected by his _dad_ , and that’s why he went to meet with Megatron. He wanted another chance to make him proud. Also, do you guys see that goldfish that’s doing the hula?” Wildrider finished. Drag Strip and Breakdown stared at him in shock, and even Dead End looked impressed. 

“Wildrider, I believe you’re right. How did you figure that out?” Dead End asked. 

“When Megatron was trying to convince Motormaster to turn on us and the Autobots, he called Motormaster son,” Wildrider replied. Dead End nodded. 

“When did you get so smart? You’re not as smart as I am, obviously, but still,” Drag Strip asked. Wildrider shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. He’d had to work for weeks to figure out why Motormaster was so sad. How did that make him smart? 

“Evidently, Wildrider understands more of what’s going on around him than we realized,” Dead End said. Before the conversation could continue, Doc Ratchet stepped out of the medbay. 

“Is M-M-M-Motormaster….” Breakdown said. Wildrider couldn’t blame him for not being able to say the word “dead”. 

“He’s alive. He’s heavily damaged, and it’ll be a few weeks before he’s fully back on his feet, but he’s not going to die. Optimus Prime made sure of that,” Doc Ratchet replied. A huge smile spread across Wildrider’s face. 

“Motormaster’s gonna be okay! YAY!” he exclaimed. 

“T-t-thank you, Doctor R-R-Ratchet,” Breakdown said.

“Don’t thank me. Thank Optimus,” Doc Ratchet replied. 

“What’d he do?” Drag Strip asked. 

“Motormaster was suffering from a mass system failure when Ironhide and Jazz brought him into the medbay. If Optimus hadn’t given Motormaster’s systems a power boost, using the energy from his own system, Motormaster would have died,” Doc Ratchet said. 

“Doing so could have easily killed him. Why would he risk his own life to save Motormaster?” Dead End asked. Doc Ratchet smiled. 

“Optimus would have done the same for any of us, Dead End. He’ll do anything to protect his allies...even sacrifice his own life,” he said. 

“But...we’re not Autobots or humans. Why would he risk himself to help us? I mean, I’m the awesomest thing ever, but we...we aren’t part of his team,” Drag Strip asked. Doc Ratchet shook his head. 

“You are part of his team. All of you are. Breakdown, Inferno can’t stop gushing about how good you’ve been in helping him and Red Alert keep their files in order. Dead End, Trailbreaker, Chip, Mirage, Hoist, and Skyfire really enjoy having you in their book club. Drag Strip, Hound says you’ve been making great progress in learning how to read. He thinks you’ve got the makings of a wonderful messenger in you...and Spike is thrilled to finally have someone to talk about that ridiculous show of his with. Motormaster rejected Megatron’s influence on him for the sake of his brothers and willingly accepted punishment for his mistakes. And Wildrider, not only have the Dinobots have basically adopted you as a sixth member of their team, but you were actually guided out of the Well of AllSparks by Alpha Trion himself. If that doesn’t make you a member of Optimus Prime’s team, nothing does. You may not be wearing Autobot badges, but the five of you are definitely a part of this unit now. You may have been built as Decepticons, and you may have struggles that most mechs don’t have to deal with because of your processor glitches, but you’ve become valued members of this team, and I for one consider you just as much Autobots as me,” Doc Ratchet said. 

“You really mean it, Doc?” Wildrider asked, still not quite ready to believe what the Doc had said. He was a crazy pineapple who’d been built to be a Decepticon. He wasn’t a Decepticon anymore, but his glitched programming was still there...wasn’t it? How could _he_ be an Autobot? 

“Of course I mean it! Now get into the medbay! There’s a pair of semis in there who want to talk to the four of you.” With that, the Stunticons followed Doc Ratchet into the medbay, Wildrider still puzzling over the fact that Doc Ratchet had declared him and his brothers-the most dysfunctional Decepticons ever built-to be Autobot material. He hoped the glitch that made him crazy hadn’t spread to Doc Ratchet. But maybe it had. Only someone crazy would think that he and his brothers could become Autobots. Not only were they all glitched, but what would they call themselves? The Stuntabots? That just sounded dumb. No, Doc Ratchet was definitely being affected by Wildrider's glitch...which was too bad. Wildrider would've liked to believe that he could be an Autobot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading.


	18. A Crazy (But Awesome) Autobot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting.
> 
> Wildrider's crazy adventure comes to a close.

When Wildrider and his brothers entered the medbay, Wildrider was surprised to find not only Motormaster and Optimus Prime, but also Jazz and Prowl, waiting for them. (There was also a large yellow sunflower, but he was pretty sure that he was the only one who saw that. Dumb hallucination.) 

“Are y-y-you all right, M-M-Motormaster?” Breakdown stammered. Motormaster, who was still on the repair table, shrugged. 

“I feel like absolute scrap, but the Doc says I’m not gonna die or nothin’,” he replied. Doc Ratchet shook his head. 

“Consider that a reminder for why you shouldn’t pull stupid stunts like agreeing to meet up with Megatron without supervision again. And don’t call me Doc!” he said. Jazz smiled. 

“Doc Ratchet, huh? I like it! I think I’ll call you that from now on,” he said. Doc Ratchet glared at him. 

“Don’t you start! The last thing I need is for you to start encouraging that nickname!” 

“Whatever you say, Doc Ratchet,” Jazz replied. Doc Ratchet just shook his head. 

“I give up,” he muttered as a surprisingly anxious look crossed Motormaster’s face. 

“Wildrider already heard most ‘a’ this, but I should probably tell the rest of ya, too. I...I’m sorry for what I’ve done to y’all. I was so focused on tryin’ to be the perfect Decepticon for Megatron that I never even thought about how much it was hurtin’ you, and when I got upset or worried...I took my anger out on you, even though ya never did nothin’ to deserve it. I was a lousy leader and a lousier brother, an’ I’m so sorry for all of it...especially almost killin’ Wildrider. I almost sacrificed my own brothers in an attempt to please someone who’d never be happy with what I did for him, and I wouldn’t blame y’all if ya never forgave me for it. Leave it to me ta haveta almost kill my own brother before I figured out what you guys already knew...that Megatron would never want me as a mech. As a weapon, sure...but not as a mech,” he said quietly (well, quietly for Motormaster). 

“Honestly, I’m surprised you figured it out at all. I was certain that the situation was hopeless, and that you would be futilely trying to please Megatron at the expense of our well-being for the rest of our undoubtedly short lives,” Dead End replied.

“Yeah. You might not be as smart as me, but at least you’ve finally figured it out. Megatron’s an idiot who doesn’t appreciate how awesome I am,” Drag Strip added. 

“W-W-What you did to us w-w-wasn’t right, b-b-but you aren’t the only one of us who’s done something b-b-bad. The Autobots have forgiven us, so w-w-we’re going to f-f-forgive you,” Breakdown said. Motormaster stared at him in surprise. 

“Y’all are really gonna forgive me? After what I did?” 

“Of course we are! We’re brothers! You ain’t gettin’ rid of us that easily, boss,” Wildrider replied. 

“Besides, holding a grudge is utterly pointless. After all, we are all ultimately doomed.” 

“Yeah, Motormaster, I forgive you, because I’m awesome like that. But don’t think that means you can get away with pushing us around again,” Drag Strip said. 

“Th-thanks, y’all. I don’t understand what these Autobots have been doin’ to us, but I’m glad for it. If it made me see that I was hurtin’ you an’ made y’all see that you could stand up for yourselves, it must be somethin’ good,” Motormaster replied. Wildrider grinned. Maybe there was something to what Doc Ratchet had said about them having changed after all! 

“And on that note, I would like to tell the five of you something,” Optimus Prime said. 

“ _Y-y-you_ want to t-t-talk to _us_? But we’re...we’re…” Breakdown stammered. 

“Hopelessly glitched. Certainly we aren’t worth your attention,” Dead End finished. Part of Wildrider hated to agree with them, but they were right. Just because they had gotten better since they had arrived at Autobot HQ didn’t make them any less glitched, or him any less crazy. 

“Yeah. We’re better than we were when we got here, but we don’t really deserve to have the leader of the Autobots talking to us. I’m a crazy, stupid pineapple, remember?” Wildrider added. Optimus Prime looked a little upset when he said that, though Wildrider wasn't sure why. It was true, after all. 

“You’re much more than that, Wildrider. You’ve proven to be a good friend to the Dinobots, a loyal brother, and much more perceptive than you let on. You may not be perfect-no one is, including me-but you are much more than the glitch in your CPU, and all five of you are much more than the failures you seem to think define you,” he said in his deep voice. It was warm and sounded kind of like he thought chocolate might taste. 

“Even me? As much as I hate ta admit it, I’ve done nothin’ but fail. I failed you, I failed my brothers, I failed myself…” Motormaster asked. Optimus nodded. 

“Even you, Motormaster. While I don’t deny that you’ve made a lot of mistakes, the fact that you’re recognizing and owning up to them says a lot about the progress you made since you arrived at our base. If you learn from your mistakes, then you are more-much more-than a failure,” he replied. Motormaster shook his head disbelievingly. 

“You’re somethin’ else, Prime.” 

“Furthermore, because of the growth the five of you have shown, Prowl and I have decided that we are going to offer you the opportunity to take the Autobot badge if you so desire. We will not force the choice upon you, nor would I think less of you for not choosing to do so, but we would welcome the opportunity to have you-and your unique skill sets-as part of our team,” Optimus Prime continued.

“But...but we were programmed to be Decepticons,” Dead End protested. 

“That may be, but your actions have made it clear that you have rejected that programming. Considering that, I see no reason for that to bar you from joining us,” Prowl replied. 

“W-w-well….I...um…” Breakdown stammered. 

“I mean, I know I’m awesome, but-” 

“I ain’t sure I’m good enough after what I’ve done.” 

“I’m in!” Wildrider exclaimed, surprising himself. He was crazy. He was reckless. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the kitchen sink (or however that weird human saying Spike had taught him went). But if Optimus Prime said he could be an Autobot, then he was going to be an Autobot. An awesome one! 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Doc Ratchet said. Wildrider grinned. 

“What do I do, Doc?” 

“You wait to see if any of your brothers decide to get badges, too. And don’t call me Doc!” Wildrider sighed. He didn’t like waiting. 

“Well, if Wildrider’s doing it, I am too. After all, I’m the best!” 

“If y-y-you really want me, I’d like to b-b-become an Autobot for real. I g-g-guess I’m in, t-t-too,” Breakdown said. 

“I suppose that, given the choice, I’d rather face my ultimate fate fighting for something rather than nothing. It may be ultimately meaningless...but I’ll know I’m not meeting my fate alone,” Dead End added.

Then there was a long pause. 

“Motormaster?” Wildrider asked. He didn’t want things to get too quiet...just in case. 

“Well...I don’t deserve it at all, but if my team wants it, who am I to not join up alongside ‘em?” Motormaster said. Wildrider got the distinct feeling that Optimus Prime was smiling under his mask. Jazz and Doc Ratchet were smiling, too, and even Prowl looked pleased. 

“In that case, we will proceed with the Rite of the Autobrand,” Optimus Prime said. Prowl stepped forward and placed an Autobot symbol on Dead End, Breakdown, Drag Strip, Motormaster, and Wildrider’s chests in turn. Wildrider personally thought that he might alter his to give it a smiley face rather than the slightly grumpy one it currently had, but that wasn’t important right now. What was important is that he was finally getting to be something other than the crazy pineapple that he’d always thought he was. He was getting to be a crazy Autobot instead! 

“Welcome to the Autobots, Dead End, Breakdown, Drag Strip, Wildirder, and Motormaster. To quote the old Cybertronian proverb, ‘May your luster never dull, and your wires never cross.’” Optimus Prime said. 

“I promise, we won’t let you down,” Motormaster said. 

“Promise you won’t let yourself down, Motormaster, and that will be more than enough for me, son,” Optimus Prime replied. 

“Son?” Motormaster echoed. 

“Of course. When I took legal guardianship of you, that made the five of you my sons, just as much as the Aerialbots are,” Optimus Prime replied. Wildirider, for his part, just grinned. He was going to be the best crazy Autobot ever! 

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rite of the Autobrand is taken from the Transformers Marvel Comic; specifically issue #14. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I really enjoyed writing this story, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I may write a sequel of some kind in the future, and there will almost certainly be other Stunticon stories coming.


End file.
